Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
But oddly, her anxiety had begun to rise.
* * *
They walked the short distance to the car, and Herschel opened her door for her, always the gentleman. As they drove away, she said, “I think we should sleep at our own places tonight.”
He was clearly surprised as he turned to her. “Why?”
It would have been so easy to make an excuse—she was getting a headache, didn’t feel well, was tired—but she decided to be honest with him. He deserved the truth. “I’m kind of freaking out. It was scary how well you fit in with my family. All of them are begging for you to be The One for me. But you’ve made it perfectly clear that you’re not going to go down that road because your job is so dangerous and you don’t want to leave a family behind if something bad happens.” She paused a beat. “Has anything changed for you on that front?”
He was quiet for a long moment as he processed her question. She loved that he was measured and didn’t blurt out the first thought in his head.
“Something has changed, but it’s still scary for me.” He leaned over and put a hand on her knee. “You have nothing to be nervous about. I won’t push.” Then he grinned at her. “Like you don’t push me deeper and deeper into the water. Maybe that’s a metaphor for our relationship. Every time I go deeper into the waves, I fall for you a little harder.”
Oh, why did he have to do that? Why did he have to say the perfect thing? She knew exactly what he meant. That was how she felt, too—as though she was being pulled deeper and deeper, and the water was already over her head, and she wasn’t sure she could swim.
He pulled up in front of her little house and didn’t seem put out at all that she’d decided to sleep alone. She kissed him and said, “I’m sorry. I just need some time.”
“I understand,” He kissed her again, and waited in the car until she was safely inside before he drove away.
* * *
Herschel had trouble getting to sleep. In the short time they’d been together, he’d become accustomed to sleeping with his arms curled around Mila or her head on his chest or her legs tangled with his. Everything felt better when she was in his bed, and now he wondered how he’d ever slept before she’d come into his life. It was scary how quickly and how hard he’d fallen for this woman who was suddenly pulling away. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand her feelings, because he did. Weirdly, he just didn’t share them.
He’d always thought he didn’t have it in him to have a wife and family who might potentially be left behind with broken hearts. But as he considered his feelings for Mila, he wondered if he had been lying to himself all this time. Maybe what he was really scared of was that someone would break his heart.
And now here was a woman who was capable of doing just that. For once in his life, he just couldn’t see a clear path of action. There was no logic here, no science. He’d finally allowed himself to fall deeply in love with a woman, and she was the one saying it might not work.
It was quite an epiphany to have at thirty-five years old.
He put a hand on his chest, and his palm brushed the disk of gold. The Saint Christopher’s medal had gone to space with him and back again. He had traveled so far, never risking his heart. His life, sure, but never his heart. Now it was too late. His heart was gone. He hadn’t lost it—he’d given it away. Voluntarily.
What was he going to do if Mila discovered she didn’t love him the way he loved her?
He was still staring at the ceiling, pondering this question, when someone banged on his door.
A glance at the clock beside his bed told him that it was just after two a.m. He tried not to feel hopeful—maybe a neighbor had a broken water pipe or something—but still, he raced down the stairs to the front door. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself for disappointment, he opened it.
As he’d hoped against hope, Mila stood on his doorstep. He let out his breath. She was wearing sweatpants, a T-shirt, possibly no bra, and a pair of flip-flops.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, gesturing at her clothes.
“Me either.” He opened the door wider. “I was waiting for you.” And he realized that was true.
Without another word, she walked into his arms. He closed the door, and they went straight to his bedroom. When they made love, it was so sweet and so intimate they didn’t need words. If two bodies could say I love you, theirs did, until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.