Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 97574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Finally, my phone buzzes with a text.
The strap of her bra. All the way to the start of the cup. Her crop top pulled aside.
She's against a clean white wall, but I can't place the other details.
Indigo: Is this to your satisfaction, sir?
Ty: You know what happens when you dare me.
Indigo: Are you going to keep asking me that?
Ty: Should I tell you to take off your knickers right now?
Indigo: It depends what you'll say after.
My mobile buzzes with a picture message. Another from this morning. Indigo, from her nose to her toes, sheer black lingerie barely covering her tits and arse.
In her bedroom.
Ready for the day—her lips painted Bordeaux, her hair in a neat line.
Then another picture.
Her and Paloma in a rooftop garden. Under a white lattice.
She's standing there, in black jeans and a matching top, in the position for the bride.
She's not turned to Paloma. She's looking at the camera.
And she's certainly not dressed in typical wedding attire—
But it still steals my breath.
Sends an entirely different set of mental images through my mind. Indigo in some gorgeous white dress, staring into my eyes like she's madly in love with me.
Taking my hand. Smiling as we dance under the stars.
Laughing as we feed each other cake.
Then the entire thing shifts. And it's Rory.
And I need out of this fucking office.
I ignore the buzz of my cell. Leave the office. Lock the door.
Take the elevator to the street.
Walk the half a dozen blocks to Battery Park.
It's warm today. Too warm for a three-piece suit.
Still, I move toward the water. Watch the sun bounce off the tiny waves.
Once I've caught my breath, I pull out my cell.
Indigo: Not how I imagined picking out my wedding venue.
Ty: What did you imagine?
Indigo: I haven't. Not really. I never wanted to get married.
Ty: Even when you were young?
Indigo: I am young.
Ty: When you were a girl.
Indigo: I went to a cousin's wedding in a hotel ballroom. It was very Jersey. You might know the type of place, with all your travel. It had that hotel ballroom look. Dated. Stuffy. With these over-the-top tablecloths and decorations trying to hide it as a place for business.
Ty: Are you close with your cousin?
Indigo: I see her at Christmas.
Ty: They're still married?
Indigo: With two kids.
Ty: Are they happy?
Indigo: I don't know. She wanted to be an actress. But when she got pregnant, she stopped trying. Maybe she gave up. Maybe she realized she wanted something else.
Ty: And you?
Indigo: And I?
Ty: You always wanted to be a musician.
Indigo: Yes.
Ty: Do you still play?
Indigo: Not often. Not since my mother died. It hurts too much.
My heart breaks for her. When we met three years ago, she loved two things more than anything else: family and music.
I hate that she's lost so much.
Ty: Have you tried recently?
Indigo: No. I've been busy.
Ty: Not anymore.
Indigo: Actually, my fiancé is sending me all around the city to look at wedding venues. I'm booked all week.
Ty: I can pick one if you'd prefer.
Indigo: No. I'll pick the venue. And the dress. You can arrange everything else.
Ty: Done.
Indigo: Done? You've already hired a hair stylist and makeup artist?
Ty: We haven't set a date yet.
We'll have to see what's available at the venue she chooses. They all have open spots this fall. And most have last-minute cancellations.
But something tells me Indigo is going to want to wait until the very end of September.
Indigo: We haven't announced our engagement yet.
Ty: We will. Friday.
Indigo: Dinner with your brother?
Ty: Yes.
Indigo: Do you have a ring?
Ty: I'm having something made for you.
Indigo: You know my size?
Ty: I know everything.
Someone bumps into me. A teenager taking a picture of her friend. They're in trendy clothes—those ridiculous Mom jeans and the Fjallraven backpacks everyone wears in Europe—but they hold themselves like tourists.
It's sweet, the way they're looking at the Financial District like it's this big, beautiful mystery they want to solve.
Maybe they're not tourists. That's how Indie looks at New York. Like she can't believe she's lucky enough to live in this big, beautiful city.
"Sorry." The teenage girl looks at me and blushes. "Do you work here?"
"Yes," I say.
"Do you know how to get to the bull statue?" Her blush deepens. "My friend wants to grab the balls."
"You won't be the first." I give her instructions.
She thanks me and runs off to her friends. Whispers something.
About the hot old guy in a suit? Or something else?
I don't often concern myself with the opinions of high school girls. Only Indigo's sister. And she's not a high school girl for much longer.
My cell buzzes again.
Indigo: I want you to propose.
Ty: What happened in my office a few weeks ago?
Indigo: With a ring.
Ty: On my knees?
Indigo: Only the one.
Ty: And you on your knees after?
Indigo: Maybe. If that's what you want, sir.
I take another deep breath. Try to find a sense of calm.