Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“It’s going good,” I say, skipping over her first question.
“So, are you still planning to move home in May? Because I’ve been thinking a lot about the studio and you taking over. Micah and I found out we’re expecting again and—”
“You’re pregnant?”
“Yeah.” A warm smile spreads across her face. “We’ve decided this baby will be the last one.” Her hand protectively goes to her still flat belly and flashbacks to the day in the warehouse surface. Her throwing up, Arielle shoving her, Eleazar pointing a gun at her. Afterward, her bleeding and going to the hospital...I can’t do it. I can’t tell her the truth. It will only upset her, and that’s the last thing she needs while she’s pregnant. She’s happy and deserves to stay that way.
“I don’t know if I’m moving back home,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Sienna flinches, and I hate myself even more. “I was offered a job in California,” I say, the lie sliding right off my tongue and leaving a nasty taste in its wake.
“Oh.”
“If you need to sell the studio, please don’t feel like you need to keep it. I bought it for you to do whatever you want with.” When I found out I was left Eleazar’s estate, the first thing I bought was the studio Sienna and I danced at. It was always our dream to open our own dance studio. The plan was for me to go to college and once I graduated, we would teach together. But then that day happened and everything changed. She had given me so much over the years, and I just wanted to give her something back.
“What? No.” She shakes her head, her eyes turning glassy with emotion. “The studio will be here, always. Whenever you’re ready to come home, it’ll be here. We’ll be here.” She bridges the gap between us and takes my hand in hers. “I miss you so much. I don’t know what’s going on, why you continue to push me away, but I’m always going to be here. Always. You’re my ride or die, and that will never change. Please consider moving home. Even if it’s not here with us. Just being close to you again would be amazing.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say, choking up with emotion, wanting to tell her everything, and hating that no matter how much I push, she keeps pulling. But then I remember that she’s pregnant, and I can’t do it. Stress isn’t good for her or the baby.
So instead, I vow to get my shit together. She’ll never know what happened—and that’s for the best—but if I can just get past my own demons, I can push what happened aside and fix my relationship with her. I can do the one thing she wants and move home. Because she deserves that. Hell, she deserves more than that, but at least this is something I can give her.
Now I just need to focus on fixing my shit. I have five months before I graduate and move back home.
First step: Figure out how the hell to be touched by a man.
“It’s not happening.” Sienna shakes her head and takes a sip of her water.
“Well, your name is on the list, just in case,” Lincoln says with a shrug.
“List for what?” I ask, clearly walking into the middle of a conversation. After dinner, I spent time with Brooklyn and London, trying to make up for lost time. After we set out the cookies and milk for Santa, I read them a Christmas story before bed. I thought maybe Sienna would be hurt that they insisted it be me and not her, but all she did was smile and say she’s glad I’m home.
“Elite is having a masquerade party on Valentine’s Day,” Sienna says with an eye roll. “And my dear brother-in-law thinks Micah and I should go.”
“It’s going to be the event of the year,” Lincoln says with a smirk. “We recently added a few backrooms.”
“Backrooms?” Sienna questions.
“Some places call it a darkroom or a black room,” Lincoln explains. “The rooms are pitch black. You can’t see anything.”
“How would you know who you’re having sex with?” Sienna asks.
“If you’re there with someone, you’ll know, but you won’t see them. Instead, you have to rely solely on your other senses: taste, touch, scent...Or you can book it anonymously.” Lincoln Grins wickedly. “Nothing hotter than anonymous, no-strings sex.”
“I don’t need anonymous sex,” Micah says, pulling my sister into his side. “I like knowing I’m making love to my wife.”
Lincoln groans. “You’re missing the point. It’s Valentine’s Day, and you guys never go out. You’re always home, and now with another baby on the way, it’s only going to get harder. Have our parents watch the little rugrats while you enjoy an adult night. Pretend you’re strangers...Flirt, hookup. Live a little.”