Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Family. The word is a lie, a truth I can’t claim, not when I’m in love with her husband, not when I’ve crossed every line.
Impulsively, she leans forward and hugs me again, her arms tight, and I stiffen. I find I can no longer bear for her to touch me. Touching her and pretending to be her friend makes me feel like a hypocrite.
Two more weeks of Max and Jason, of this love, this life, knowing it’ll break me when it ends. The wine glass is heavy in my hand.
“Let’s drink to us,” she says merrily.
I force a smile. It feels brittle, but I raise my glass. “To us.”
Chapter
Forty
MAX
Sara’s words still burn in my ears. I think of her eyes dodging mine as she closed the door behind her. I’ve never met her mother. I was under the impression they had fallen out many years before we met, so I guess they must have made up. I don’t wish ill on her mother, but Sara’s ‘bad news’ is my ‘good news’.
What will it mean for me? Another stolen week? The staff will be around so it won’t be like how it was these last two weeks, but we will be able to squeeze a few more stolen hours in her bed, and it will give me a bit more time to consider what to do with my relationship with Sara.
The cold coffee on the desk mocks me, and I can no longer remain in the stuffy office. I rise to my feet and walk to the window. I stand looking out and spot Amelia in the garden, crouched by a rose bush. She calls to me like a magnet.
I push through the back door and step onto the patio. Amelia is yanking out a stubborn weed. Her denim shorts are smudged with earth. Her golden hair is tied back, but loose strands cling to her damp neck. Her tank top sticks to her back, outlining the dip of her spine.
For a moment, I watch her move, her fingers deft but fierce, tearing at the roots like she’s fighting something bigger than weeds. I’m floored by how easily she makes my world tilt, makes every moment sharper, brighter, just by being here. The sun’s high and blazing, and her cheeks are flushed, a pink glow that makes me want to pull her inside, away from the heat, into my arms.
“Hey,” I call, as I step closer. Gravel crunches under my boots. “It’s brutal out here. Maybe you should wait till the evening? You’re gonna burn. Come inside.” I try to keep it light, but there’s an edge to it, a need to protect her that I can’t hide.
She glances up, her green eyes catching mine, and a soft smile flickers.
“I’m fine. I almost never burn. Don’t you remember?” Her voice is low, steady, as she brushes dirt from her palms. She stands, wiping her brow with the back of her wrist, leaving a streak of soil, and I want to reach out, to wipe it away, to kiss the spot where it smudges her skin. But I hold back, my hands fisting at my sides, the air between us thick with everything we’re not saying.
I step closer, the scent of warm earth and her citrus shampoo hitting me, making my pulse race. “Did Sara speak to you?” I ask, my voice low, tight, searching her face for a clue to what’s coming.
Her gaze drops to the pile of weeds at her feet, her fingers twisting together, dirt caught under her nails. “Yeah. She told me she’s going away again next week. Her mom has deteriorated, so she’ll need to be with her for a little while longer. Another week, maybe two.”
Her words trail off, and she goes quiet, her shoulders stiffening, her eyes distant into the horizon like it holds all the answers.
I move closer, close enough to feel the heat of her skin, the faint tremor in her stance. Her nearness is like a spark catching dry grass.
“Amelia,” I say, my voice low, urgent, cracking on her name, “I know this is… heavy. If it’s too much, if it makes you uncomfortable, just tell me. I’ll stop everything—right now, I swear. I’ll keep my hands off you, give you space, whatever you need.”
My throat burns. The words were the ramblings of a desperate man. I’ve never been like this before. Never had to beg. Never wanted to. I swallow hard, my heart hammering with the fear of her pulling away, but also with a selfish hope, a flicker of light that we might have more time.
"I just… When Sara told me, I couldn’t help it. I was happy, thinking we’d get a little longer together, or at the very least have some time to think about a more permanent arrangement between us.”