Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“Do you wanna . . .” I gesture at the car at the same time as she says:
“Fine. But not now.”
It’s weird how little relief I feel. Tell me something. Tell me why my hands itch to touch you. Why my insides vibrate with need. Why I’m worried you might get on a plane and I’ll never see you again.
“Later. After work. I’ll meet you there.” She nods, indicating a wine bar on the other side of the street.
“Okay.” I nod a little too eagerly. “What time?”
“When I’m done.”
“Right.” I almost laugh. But I get it. This is on her terms. Again. But that’s fine.
She turns away, ending our conversation. I open the car door and slide in, feeling . . . less than elated. But why?
Nothing else for it. The engine rumbles to life. I suppose I better head to the office to fill in the time between now and whenever “later” is.
“How’d it go?”
“Creeping feckin’ Jesus!” I exclaim as I open my office door to find Fin looming on the other side. “Is there something wrong with your office?” I demand, glancing at the espresso cup balanced in his palm.
“Yeah. It’s being redecorated,” he says, stepping out of the way.
“But we went through that not too long ago.” And a pain in the arse it was.
“I said my office, not the offices.” He throws this over his shoulder as he makes his way to my desk.
“Mila?”
“She’s taken a budding interior designer under her wing . . .” His words trail off, his shrug kind of you know how it is. He sets the tiny cup and saucer on my desk, then leans back against it.
“Right.” It’ll no doubt be some talented individual from a disadvantaged background. Adding the offices (or office) of Maven Inc. to their portfolio will be a grand start to a career, I imagine. She’s a good person, Mila.
“I offered up my office, as it’ll be less disruptive than having the bedroom ripped apart,” he admits.
“Those were your choices?” It’s hard to keep amusement from my tone.
“Pretty much,” he answers happily. “I didn’t stand a chance.”
“Ah, you love it,” I scoff.
“Married life is a blast. And speaking of love . . .” This time when his words trail off, he gives a comic wiggle of his brows.
“I’m meeting Ryan later,” I say, slipping off my jacket.
“That’s something, I guess.” His eyes dip as he crosses one ankle over the other.
“I think so.” Something fucking terrifying.
“Especially after yesterday.”
“No more jokes, Fin.”
“I wasn’t gonna! I wouldn’t dream of saying something like . . . the sight of you made her ill.”
“Grand. Thanks for not mentioning it.” I cross the office, and at the alcove at the side of the Adam fireplace, I open the concealed fridge and pull out a bottle of water.
“Any idea what you’ll say?”
“I’ll just play it by ear,” I say, cracking the seal on the lid. “Want one?”
He holds up his hand: No thanks. “You think that’s the best move?”
“Well,” I say, the bottle hovering at my lips. “I could prepare a PowerPoint.”
“Not a bad idea,” he says with a chuckle. “You could include hearts and flowers.”
“Piss off.”
“Pissing off,” he says, straightening. “Oh, we had the transport police yesterday.”
I frown. “Was it about the CCTV footage?” That I no longer require.
“No. They wanted money. Jesus, Matt. Is that what it costs for jumping the ticket barrier these days?”
“Nah, that was an on-the-spot fine of fifty quid. The rest is a donation to their charitable fund because I was . . . just because.” Just because I’d seen her again. Just because there was a chance I might get to put this right. High on exhilaration and excitement, I’d decided I might just be lucky enough to have her in my life.
And now . . .
Now lucky is the least of what I feel.
Chapter 17
Ryan
I see him before he sees me. I watch him from the back of the bougie wine bar as he steps in from the rain, slicking his hand through his wet hair.
When I’m done. I give a little huff. My reality is so different since I said that this morning, all fuck off and die vibes. I wasn’t ready to speak to him then, and I’m even less ready now. But there are things in life you have no control over, no matter how hard you try.
Point number one: my news. The potential to rock both of our worlds.
Point number two: me camped out in this wine bar since midmorning, after giving Matt the impression he’d be waiting on me way after office hours.
To be fair, that was the plan. Hell hath no fury like a woman, if not scorned, then made to feel less than. On several fronts, I think as my throat moves with a deep swallow.
As far as new starts and new years go, this one sucks.