Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 104011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Excuse me, sir.” The magic is broken for Nick as he leans back in his chair, making room for the waiter. He opens a bottle of white wine and pours a small amount into a glass for Nick to taste. I watch as he swirls and sniffs the wine, then takes a small sip as he holds the liquid on his tongue before he swallows. The waiter stands at the ready, waiting patiently for Nick’s stamp of approval. I have never understood this whole pre-tasting wine business. Has anyone ever tasted rancid wine, or sent back a brand new bottle? To me, it just seems like hoity-toity formalities, but what do I know? I’m just a twenty-one-year-old college student, not a wine connoisseur.
After Nick swallows, he nods in approval for the waiter to pour me a glass. Thank the Lord the waiter fills the glass full, because I could use some liquid courage right about now.
I glance at the label on the chilled bottle, and tilt my head, trying to read its name. The only thing I can decipher in the complex title is the word Extravagant, everything else is written in scripted French.
“I took the liberty of ordering a wine I thought you might like. I hope you don’t mind.”
I look at Nick, and falsely smile. “No, of course I don’t mind. Thank you.” I plan on guzzling half its contents the second I know no one is looking. The waiter smiles at me and proceeds to place a glass of amber liquid in front of Nick.
“So, what’s the special occasion?”
“Once a month, we hold a formal dinner party. This has always been routine for me until this evening.” I raise the glass of wine to my lips, and suddenly, I find two masculine fingertips come into view, touching the rim on the other side of my wineglass, preventing me from partaking. “Uh-uh, my love. How about a celebratory toast first?”
I lower my glass and ask. “What are we toasting to?”
“New beginnings.” He gives me a knowing grin and winks.
“Oh,” I simply state while I perilously teeter on the edge of a dangerous precipice. I pray I can continue to keep it together and not toss my wine in his face.
Nick takes my hand in his and leans forward so only I can hear what he’s going to say. “When I first laid eyes on you, you took my breath away; you captured my soul.” His eyes hold conviction as he shakes his head. “I knew I had to have you the minute I saw you. I realized in an instant I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, but I had to wait. I wanted the rest of my life to start seven years ago, but I am looking forward to playing catch up. You will never regret us, Julianna.” His last words are a whisper as he closes the distance between us. My heart pounds in my chest as his lips tenderly press against mine in a very slow, endearing kiss. When he pulls away, his eyes sparkle and a contented smile warms his face as my lungs constrict with lack of oxygen.
Nick picks up his glass of amber liquid and clinks it against the top of my wine glass gently, and then I bring my soon-to-be empty crystal-ware to my lips without haste. Politely, I take a sip and force a smile of approval, one of which I don’t feel. I don’t even have the desire to know when the first glance took place; it’s all a moot point anyway, plus kinda creepy if it was seven years ago. “That was very lovely, Nick.” Surprisingly, the lie slips from between my lips with ease.
“I’m glad you approve,” he says with a wry grin. “I meant every word.”
I take a large sip of wine this time, then glance around the room, avoiding further conversation on the matter of our future. Changing the subject, I ask, “This is rather extravagant isn’t it, I mean, for a once a month soiree?”
I can feel Nick’s eyes boring into me as he speaks. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Julianna. There is nothing too extravagant for you. I want to spoil you with so many things.”
Oh, God. My mouth goes dry and I think I’m going into A-Fib. Turning my focus back to my wine glass, I consume yet another mouthful. This is too damn weird. He’s pouring it on thick, and I don’t know what his game is. At least he’s calling me ‘my love’ more than he is ‘my princess’. I’m going to have to scratch the idea of pretending I’m in a fairytale and tap into something deeper. Meaning: more wine.
Nick clasps his hand over mine, trapping my hand around the length of the stemware in the process. “Slow down, we have all night. I don’t want you to get sick.”