Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“I mean, yeah. What would you call it?” she asks.
I think back to the conversation with my father about faith and how it shifts and makes itself evident.
“I’d call it a sign.”
FORTY-SIX
Verity
“Where are you going?” I mumble, struggling to pry my eyes open.
Monk sits on the side of my bed, only the lean line of his back, the cut of his biceps, discernible in the dim light of dawn.
He looks over his shoulder, and my eyes adjust enough to make out his smile.
“If we don’t want to get caught,” he says, leaning back to hover over me, his forearms on either side of my head, “I better get out of here and back to my own cottage.”
He kisses my forehead, but when he lifts to leave, I wrap my hand around his nape and pull him down for a kiss. I’m too self-conscious about morning breath to deepen it much, but just his mouth resting on mine and his low, pleased hum vibrating against my lips are enough. Ever since I shared my bipolar diagnosis two days ago, something has shifted between us; drawn us closer. It feels like I was holding back a piece of myself, along with the complete truth. Once I gave that to him, so much more has followed. There’s a deeper intimacy born of renewed trust blossoming between us.
“I don’t care,” I whisper when the kiss ends. “If they find out, I mean.”
He sits up and turns on the bedside lamp. I squint at the sudden brightness, but meet his stare in the light with a clear heart and my mind settled.
“You sure ’bout that?” Monk asks, taking my hand and linking our fingers on the sheet.
“I don’t wanna take out an ad.” I shrug with a shy smile. “Like I’m not saying flaunt it, but if someone realizes we’re together, then—”
“Say that part again.” He lifts our joined hands and kisses my knuckle.
At first I’m not sure what he means, but then I catch on and repeat with a smile.
“We’re together.”
“Damn right we are. I’m tired of sneaking around.”
“I’m not saying we go all PDA on set, either. I don’t want to draw attention or be the subject of gossip, but I am getting sick of hiding shit.”
I’ve tucked away, shadowed all the parts of myself associated with my diagnosis, and it’s left me on edge so much. The fear of discovery. The doubt of acceptance. The threat of losing the things that feed my soul and give me a sense of purpose: my career and my stories.
“It’s up to you,” Monk says. “We can ease into it on your terms. I don’t have anything to prove, though I will be glad when Chris knows to keep off my grass.”
“Your grass!” A laugh bursts past my lips and I drag myself up and rest my back on the headboard. “That didn’t take long. Possessive already, huh?”
“As if that’s new.” He rolls his eyes and stands, grabbing his jeans from the floor. “Haven’t I always been? I can dial it down if it bothers you. Maybe a little. I could try.”
I give him an I know you look.
“Okay, probably not much,” he concedes with a shrug.
“I can handle it.”
He drags last night’s T-shirt over his chest and says dryly, “You say that now.”
I roll out of bed and pad barefoot behind him to the front door of the cottage.
“What do you have today?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. My camisole and underwear are little defense against the chill of early-morning ocean air.
“Technically, I could head back to LA.” He grabs his shoes where he left them by the door and slips them on. “The riviera scenes I needed here are done. All the other music is studio stuff we’ll do when we get back to LA.”
“Oh.” I must not hide my disappointment because he clasps my nape and offers a wry grin.
“But I’ll stick around another few days and work from here while I can,” he says. “My girl is here and I don’t want to leave her.”
I tip up on my toes to kiss him lightly. “She’d like that.”
“What about you?” His palms spread over the curve of my hips and he tugs me close. “What’s your day look like?”
“I’ll be in video village with Canon for a few scenes. I’m really just a safety net at this point. We only have maybe another week here before heading back to LA. Should be smooth sailing.”
“You probably just jinxed it,” he says with a laugh. “I have some work to do on this album I’m helping with. I may have to go to New York in the next couple of weeks. Hop in the studio.”
“Then we need to make the most of our time.”
“You could come with me.” He nuzzles the sensitive skin behind my ear, sending a tiny jolt of pleasure through me. “And see Mel and Tessa in New York.”