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)
“They sound amazing,” I said, marveling at the stories he shared with me about his parents.
“Bristol and I were lucky. We had the best parents anyone could ask for.” He visibly swallowed, his eyes apologetic. “I'm sorry if that sounds like I'm bragging.”
“Please don't apologize for something like that. I love hearing about your past, especially the pieces that made you so happy. And it's not your fault that my parents were the complete opposite. If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you. It's not fair that people like my biological parents are still here and yours...” My words stumbled over the emotion building inside me.
I had no experience with grief, not in the way that Crossland did, and I had no idea if I was miss-stepping with my words. I didn't want to take the trust he'd given me by blundering my responses.
“I suppose there's nothing we can do about either of our situations,” he said. “The only thing we can do is make the best with the time we have. I learned that the day I lost them. How quickly something can end.” He pushed his food around on his plate, not really seeing it. “I also learned that sometimes things can be avoided, if only the proper preparation had been in place.”
“How so?” I asked.
“My parents died because there wasn’t a level one trauma center nearby,” he explained, and my heart twisted in my chest. “I've been doing my best to support local hospitals, giving them the funds they need to ensure they have the best resources possible. I'm actually dedicating a brand-new trauma center at a hospital in upstate New York in their memory in a couple weeks. It won't bring them back, but I feel like they'd be proud.”
“They definitely are,” I said, swiping at the tears that had pooled in my eyes. “They’d be beyond proud of you, Crossland. You took a tragic situation and turned it into something so beautiful and you help so many people. Not everyone would have done the same.”
He smiled at me, reaching across the table to grab my hand. “You did,” he said. “So maybe we're the same.”
I chuckled softly. “Yes, I am the most esteemed of baristas in all the land, using my trauma as a work ethic, where you expanded an empire from yours.”
He flashed me a chiding look, but smiled at my tease, knowing that I did it because that's what he liked, a proper balance of serious and silly.
After dinner, Crossland took the long way home, music filtering through the speakers in the Ferrari as a comfortable silence fell over our previous non-stop conversation. It felt absolutely magical to be in this car with him after the stories he told me, heading back to his apartment like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I spent nights over there more often than not, so much so that I had everything I needed at the edge of my fingertips.
The sweet silence came with us as we rode up in the elevator, and walked into his apartment, my heels clicking on the hardwood floors as I made my way to his bedroom. I was more than ready to get out of this dress, no matter how pretty it was.
I slipped out of my heels, padding barefoot into the walk-in closet that now had a whole section just for me.
Crossland followed me inside, his fingers grazing the back of my neck as he reached for my zipper to help me out of the dress.
A warm shiver followed where his fingers lingered as he brought the zipper down with such patience and gentleness, the move indicating that we had all the time in the world.
Right now, in this moment, there was no ticking clock, no expiration date.
There was just Crossland, this incredible man helping me out of a dress.
The straps of the dress loosened once he reached my lower back, the thin strips of silk sliding down my shoulders. He took a step back, giving me the space to choose what to do next.
I could change into a pair of my favorite pajamas, the ones he’d stocked a drawer with for me, and head straight to bed, turning on Netflix for good measure.
Or I could forget about the clothes and head straight for a nice long bath.
Whatever I wanted, I knew he’d support. I knew it as easily as I knew I could trust him with the darkest parts of myself, the ones others had run away from.
But not him.
Never him.
I let the dress fall in a mess of silk at my feet, stepping out of it and turning around to face him.
His chest rose with his intake of breath, his icy blue eyes widening as he took in the sight of me. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, except for the new matching underwear set that was made of black lace, but he still looked at me like he’d just unwrapped a brand-new present. Like I was something he’d been looking for his entire life.