Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“You know what today is perfect for?” I toyed with the soft tuft of blond curls behind his ear.
“Sex on the beach?” Riggs was scrolling through his phone, looking largely unbothered by the fact our so-called honeymoon had come to an end. “The act, not the cocktail. I still have my balls intact, thank you.”
My cheeks were so hot you could make well-done burgers on them. “That too. But you need to schedule your appointment with the neurologist.”
If looks could kill, I’d be stuck in an underground fridge right now.
“I can book it for you if you’re busy,” I suggested, not particularly enjoying playing his mum.
“I’m a big boy. I’ll do it, eventually.”
“But your headaches—”
“You’re contributing to those with your constant nagging, Poppins.” His voice was soft, but his expression hardened.
I opened my mouth, then clamped it shut. He needed to know about the potential risks he was up against.
“You should also go see Charlie in the hospital.”
“Yeah, I’ll drop by tomorrow on my way to Christian’s.”
“No, not tomorrow. Today.”
His head finally snapped up. “Why’re you pushing this?”
“Pushing what?” I played dumb.
He circled the air with his finger. “All of this. My headaches. Charlie. Why do you give a fuck? I’m not your business. We’ve already gone through this. Fuck buddies with benefits, right? Nothing more.”
You’d think the frequency with which he said it would make the pain dull, but it never ceased to hurt me.
“Just because the marriage isn’t real doesn’t mean the friendship isn’t,” I mumbled.
“You think BJ’s gonna like you being friends with the guy you’re married to, the guy who fucked you in every single position in the Kama Sutra?” He snorted.
Actually, I was quite sure we were about eight positions short.
I licked my lips. “I’m not sure I’m getting back with BJ.”
Why couldn’t I simply spit the truth out? That BJ hadn’t even been in my thoughts for weeks? That Riggs haunted them, day and night, and at some point through it all, I’d realized love was more important than money?
Because that would be admitting to yourself that you’re in love with your bloody husband.
Riggs let out a rusty laugh. “Is that why you didn’t tell your parents you’ve broken up?”
The reason why I hadn’t told my parents about BJ and me was because I was embarrassed. I wasn’t ready for Riggs to witness the cringe when I had to explain to Mum and Tim that BJ had run off to a Thai island to sample exotic beauties while I twiddled my thumbs and pined for an engagement ring.
“Now who’s the one overstepping?” I answered.
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “My bad. I have no right giving a shit about you and BJ. It’s not like I’m your husband.”
When the cab dropped us off at our building, I went straight to the mailbox. I unlocked it and flipped it open, my heart stuttering in my chest. The usual junk mail spilled out of it, landing at my feet. Riggs shut the door behind me, dragging my trolley along.
Among the leaflets and commercials was one white letter. I bent down to pick it up. Riggs used the opportunity to slap my ass, forever the gentleman.
I ripped the letter open with unsteady fingers, holding my breath. My eyes ran over the text, drinking it in.
“Planet Earth to Poppins, copy,” Riggs grumbled behind me. “We going up, or what?”
I turned to him, holding the unfolded letter from the US Citizenship and Immigration Services. Riggs’s eyes skimmed the short text. His jaw was squared and locked.
It was going to be over. Him and me. The little kingdom of takeouts and midnight giggles we’d built in my shoebox flat.
“October twenty-second, huh?” Riggs sucked his teeth in, nodding. “Not too long.” October 22 was three weeks from now.
“Yeah.” I licked my lips, feeling quite light headed.
“That’s good.” The words sounded like he’d forced them out.
“Exactly what we wanted,” I agreed, choking on every single vowel.
Riggs glanced around, running his rough palm through his angel hair. “Ah, fuck,” he groaned.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to wait until we were home?” I joked weakly.
“I need to tell you something, Poppins.” He dropped his backpack onto the floor. My suitcase went down in a thud too.
“Yes?” I angled my entire being toward him. I wanted so badly for him to say something I could hold on to. That maybe he could stay here for a while after the interview. Or perhaps I could accompany him on one of his trips and work for him. I’d even do it for free. Or . . . I don’t know, even that we could try to see each other casually whenever he was in New York and see where it led.
“I—” he started. The entrance door to the building swung open with a whoosh.
A male nurse in a blue uniform breezed inside, peering down at his phone. He scratched his forehead, looking up at us. “I’m looking for apartment number twenty-four?”