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)
“Thank you. I love them,” she says, a wide grin spreading over her face. “I have a gift for you, too.”
“What happened to no gifts?” I shake my head, an involuntary smile twitching on my lips. “Now see if I hadn’t gotten you a gift, I would’ve been the loser boyfriend.”
The word boyfriend kind of lands in the room between us. We’re together, but neither of us has labeled it that way. We don’t comment on it, but share a smile that says everything.
She rushes across the room and digs in her oversized purse, returning with a small gift bag.
“I didn’t even have time to really wrap it,” she says, handing the bag over. “But I hope you like it.”
I feel through the layers of tissue paper and pull out a piece of pottery, flat and oblong-shaped.
“It’s a dish, like for your keys or… whatever. I made it myself.” She touches the diamond earring and shakes her head, looking a little sheepish. “It’s not much, but—”
“You made this yourself?” I stroke the smooth surface with my thumb, tracing the green, gold, and amber colors she swirled into the design.
“Yeah, actually a few weeks ago. I haven’t done much pottery since shooting started.” She chuckles and blows out a breath. “I haven’t kept up with much of anything since shooting started, now that I think of it, but this was pretty simple.”
“I love it.” I turn it over in my hands and stare at the numbers engraved on the bottom, and my heart bangs against my ribs as the date computes. “November… wait. That’s when we had our first date.”
She stills, bites her lip, and nods. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember.”
“How could I forget?” I draw her close and hold her for a few seconds, one hand clutching the pottery and the other cupping her face. “Thank you, Vee.”
She tips up on her toes and kisses me, our mouths brushing together in something that is tender and sweet, but feels so fragile it makes me want to keep holding her in case the universe gets any ideas about tearing us apart again.
“You overlooked part of your gift,” I mumble into the curve of her neck.
She reaches up to touch the diamond in her ear. “What else?”
I walk over to the couch and grab the box with its bed of velvet, which I move aside to display a folded sheet of paper. Removing the paper, she reads, gasps. Her eyes stretch and snap to mine.
“Monk, is this…”
“It is.” I take the paper from her trembling fingers. “I’m negative. Tested. Cleared. If you want to get tested and stop using condoms, we can. I want that.”
“Why would you…” She shakes her head, a dazed look to her eyes. “Why did you do this?”
“Because I only want you and I want nothing between us.” I cup her jaw, run my thumb over the fullness of her lips. “I only want to be with you. I trust you.”
“You… you…” She can’t seem to form words, her mouth opening and closing a few times. Tears gather at the corners of her eyes, fragile and crystalline, rolling unchecked over her cheeks. “You trust me again… after… you trust me?”
“With my life.” I press my lips to her temple. “With my love.”
She goes still, the only movement the slight tremor over her body as she cries softly into the bend of my neck and shoulder.
“I love you, too,” she whispers.
I didn’t know there was a part of me held back, but as soon as she says the words, something opens up inside of me and my heart is in her hands. I’m laid out and vulnerable. The moment is so transparent I feel like I can see every one of her fears, her dreams, her worries, and I, in turn, want to show her all mine. It’s something old that is new again, but it’s also something we’ve never had before. Matured. Seasoned. Steady.
I know steady is the last word she would use because she lives in constant vigilance that her moods will swing from one extreme to the other, but tonight, right now, we are together, and our love is in perfect balance.
FIFTY
Monk
I’m not sure what wakes me, but the clack clack clack of keys drags my body into reluctant alertness. I stretch my arm out, patting the empty spot where Verity was when we fell asleep.
“Vee,” I call, looking toward the bathroom, but the light is off in there.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand to check the time. Two o’clock in the morning.
I throw my legs over the side of the bed and press my palms to the mattress for a few seconds, still orienting myself. I follow the sound through the hall, down the stairs, and into the living room. Verity sits on the living room floor with her laptop, her back against the couch.