Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“I...” Damn. I literally had no idea how to answer her question.
Something expanded in my chest, this flood of warmth that Aspen understood me on so many different levels in such a short time. It felt like we’d spent years getting to know each other versus the last couple months. And I had no idea if that was just because of the easy way we got along or if it was because of the crash course of getting to know each other we'd had in the beginning of our agreement. Either way, it touched something inside of me, stirring up a whole slew of emotions that I didn't exactly know how to regulate.
“No one's ever asked me that before,” I admitted. “I'll get back to you when I find out.”
She turned and smiled up at me. “No worries,” she said. “I get it. You love your life, and you're really fucking good at living it. You don't need to want anything else. I was just curious.”
I nodded down at her, tucking her under my arm again as we continued to walk.
She wasn't wrong. I did love my life, but I had felt restless recently. The little shots of dopamine of buying a franchise or winning a Stanley Cup had lost its allure, not because it wasn't worth everything, because it was.
I was incredibly lucky, and lived a very privileged life that I was completely aware of. But I couldn’t deny the small itch that I hadn't been able to scratch for a while now.
And I always tried to satisfy it with more businesses or more women, more parties or more trips around the world, but in the end, when I was home and alone, it was still there, plaguing me with its uncertainty.
Though lately—the last two months to be precise—I hadn't been as bothered by it. Of course, I’d been incredibly busy, and more than distracted with Aspen.
Maybe that's all it was.
I just needed distraction. Needed to stay moving forward and never stand still.
Or maybe it was because I was rarely alone now, with Aspen indulging my request to sleep over most nights of the week even though she had a perfectly good apartment in Brooklyn all to herself.
“We should get back home,” Aspen said after another hour of window shopping, and my heart did this weird little jump when I knew she was talking about my place, not hers. “I only have an hour to get ready.”
“You could go as you are and you'd be perfect,” I said eyes trailing the length of her body, admiring the cozy cream sweater she wore that hung just below her luscious ass that was sheathed in warm black leggings, her feet tucked into a pair of black boots that were perfect for long walks like this.
She smiled up at me. “Thanks for that,” she said. “But I'd like to wash the city out of my hair before dinner.” A little flash of nerves shifted over her features, and I cocked a brow at her.
“Are you nervous?” I asked slightly shocked. She rarely showed that side of herself to anyone, and I was honored she trusted me with it, but she'd been in the room with some of the most powerful people in the world and hadn't batted an eye. But tonight's dinner? That was enough to worry her?
“No, of course not,” she said, but I could read through her assurance. “It's going to be great.”
A little bit of apprehension skittered down my spine, as if I could feel her energy pulsing inside of me. I smoothed my hands down her shoulders. “If you're not ready,” I said. “We don't have to do this.”
It had been her idea, her insistence on this dinner happening, but if it was going to make her uncomfortable, we wouldn't do it.
“Is it me?” I asked, my stomach twisting. Was she worried about me? How I would behave? Was she worried I would mess everything up?
Shit, would I mess everything up?
“No, not at all,” she said, placing her hand on the center of my chest. “Crossland, I would never be worried about you. It's not that I'm even worried. It's just...” She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, her eyes meeting mine with an open vulnerability that tugged at something in my chest. “It's Brecken,” she said. “I'm incredibly protective over her. It's kind of my tragic flaw. I’ve had it since she was born. And I don't normally introduce people to her until I’m sure they're going to be around. And I know we haven't exactly talked about what's going to happen in a month, but I want you to meet her. And I know she wants to meet you. And I'm probably making too big of a deal about this. We're friends, right? That's what we agreed to. Even after...”