Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
He brings me into the fold of his arms. With his head bent to rest on the top of mine, he says, “I’ll never let that happen.” I close my eyes, resting my cheek against his chest as I slide my arms around him, and soak up the kiss he presses to the top of my head. “Never. Okay?”
My soul clings to his words, but there’s no desperation in it. I believe him. Breathing is easier, and I grin, though he can’t see it. “I hate snakes, too.”
He chuckles and leans back to look me in my eyes. Cupping my face, he says, “I knew I liked you.” Simple words, but they hold so much meaning.
I playfully push off and ask, “How far are we from your place?”
“Too far to walk in this weather.” He looks toward the window and notes, “It’s snowing.”
“We should get going before we get stuck here.” I walk to the chair and grab my phone from the pocket of my coat. “I’ll call a car.” Even if it was nice out, the man worked a long shift earlier. I’m surprised he’s still upright. “What’s the address?”
I enter it into the app when he says it, and I return to the fridge to grab the packaged charcuterie board sitting inside and the bottle of open champagne in the other. Keats watches me, and though I can see the questions written in his expression, I don’t make him ask. I say, “He was planning for the company.”
“Will he be mad if it’s gone?” The concern is sweet, but I’m past worrying about the consequences.
“I don’t care anymore.”
“Alright, then.” He brings my coat and helps put it on. I’m even zipped up nice and snug before we leave this apartment behind. I look back once, feeling this might be the last time I ever come here.
The car waits at the curb when we push through the door and onto the street. I have the tray, and he carries the bottle, though once we’re tucked inside the back seat, I take a sip, apparently not caring about much anymore. Maybe I’ve finally reached some limit I didn’t know I had. Or maybe it’s being with him that has me seeing a new side of life—one where I can be happy even if guardrails keep me in line. If destiny exists, our future is already determined.
With the tray in my lap, he takes my hand and holds it on top of his leg. His smile is wider than I’ve seen it, encouraging me to ask, “Why are you so happy?”
“I get to spend time with you.” His grip is firm and caring, leaving no doubt that this is right between us. Bringing my hand to his mouth, he kisses it before settling it back on his lap. I can’t stop staring even when he looks away.
Charming.
Smart.
Makes me laugh. My cheeks have ached from smiling so much around him.
I didn’t expect to meet someone tonight. I never could have dreamed that my very own romantic was under the same moon, much less in my backyard like kismet itself put him there. Maybe it’s silly, but I’m starting to believe that Keats Matthews was put in my path on purpose. And once I believe in fate, love follows shortly after.
Could I love this man?
I don’t conjure a response, leaving my heart to figure it out when ready.
The car saves me from falling too deep into that notion when it pulls to the curb. Keats takes the bottle from me, and I carry the tray. “Happy holidays,” the driver says as I pop the door open and get out.
“Happy holidays,” I reply as I look up at the building before me.
The street is nice, especially with snow falling. Trees grow in front of some of the buildings, but none in front of his. The red brick shows its age with peeling black paint around the trim, a stoop that doesn’t have more than three steps, and only a matchbox-sized landing, but it’s the way Keats is already backing toward the building with his free hand up in explanation that bothers me. He doesn’t owe me anything. “Prepare yourself,” he says. “I know it doesn’t look like much on the outside, but the inside looks even worse.” He cracks a smile.
“I know I’ll love it.” I grab his hand and lead him up the steps. Just inside the entrance, I catch the names on the mailboxes, landing on his. “Four B?”
“There’s no elevator,” he warns, staring at me like he expects a certain reaction.
Eyeing him, I wink. “No wonder you’re in such great shape.”
I start on the stairs, but I’m caught by the back of my coat. When I turn to look, his hand slides to the nape of my neck. The air grows thick when the tension from earlier returns, stirring an unsatiated hunger in my belly. His heated stare tells me he feels the same as his eyes travel from mine and lower to my mouth. We were playful, even eager to arrive, but now that we’re here, my heart feels exposed despite the layers covering my body. I want him. I want him to be my first, but I also care about him. Maybe I’m a fool for falling so fast and easily for someone I just met, but I’ll be the fool for him without hesitation.