Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Unless it was with her boss. Her possible crush.
Jacob grins. For a quick moment, over before it starts, I see him as a boy. I see a hint of what our sons might look like.
“They’ve been on my case about it for years. They had me young, but they’re in their sixties now. They’re healthy, living abroad, but we talk often and, yeah, they want grandkids. They also understand I can’t just find a woman for the sake of it.”
“She’d have to be pretty special to pass your test, huh?”
He says nothing, leaving me to wonder if I could ever pass his test. Not that I see this as an audition. Okay, that’s a lie, but it’s how I should feel, able to caution myself against rushing too far ahead.
“How’s your food?” he asks after a pause.
This time, we both allow the conversation to change shape. We eat, talking about journalism.
“It’s more difficult for you,” Jacob says. “When I started, the emphasis wasn’t on clicks and views as much as it is now. The news cycle was slower, but these days, it’s about attention. Eyeballs. It’s easy for the truth to get lost in the shuffle.”
“I love when you talk about the truth.”
The word love hangs in the air between us.
“You’re so passionate about it.”
“I am,” he says, staring deep into my eyes, tempting me to get lost in his. “When I was a kid, there was this man who lived a few doors down. He was like an uncle to me, which is why it rocked our whole community when he was accused of some very nasty stuff.”
I wait, enthralled by my man, knowing I always will be. I wish I could reach past his silver hair and into his thoughts, discover for certain if I’ve imagined the hints he’s been dropping all evening.
“The community slowly started to assume he was guilty. There was no evidence. The police questioned him, then let him go, but stains like that stick.”
I’ve never read this online and never heard about it, but I know what he did.
“You found the truth, didn’t you?” I say. “You chased it day and night. You wouldn’t stop until you proved this man was innocent.”
“This story isn’t public,” he says quietly.
“It doesn’t have to be.”
His lip curves, more of a smile than a smirk. “Yes, I did all that. What really troubled me was the way people will believe a lie. Eager, even, and then the internet exploded. It was when I was starting, of course, but it wasn’t like it is today. I’ll never sacrifice our commitment to the truth.”
“Is that what worries you about the deal?”
He slides his hand across the table again. A shiver of danger touches me, but I ignore it. I hold his hand tightly.
“There’s a lot of money riding on it,” he says, “but I mean this. I’d give away every cent if it was a choice between that and merging with a company that doesn’t care about the truth.”
“Which, if this dog-theft thing is what we think it might be…”
I adore the way he moves his thumb across my knuckles, caressing me as though he can’t help himself.
“Exactly.” He sighs darkly. “We’ll just have to keep chasing.”
After dinner, we walk outside.
“I’ve hired a car to take you back to your apartment,” Jacob says. “I’ve got a meeting with some overseas colleagues. Trust me, Maddie, I’d much rather be with you.”
It’s reckless, and maybe that’s an understatement, but I don’t complain. He takes my hips softly—but with a hint of the passion he truly wants to apply—and guides his lips to mine. Straightaway, I forget about the need for caution. I forget about photographers and the need to be careful. I forget about Mom.
We kiss on the street like we’re at the end of a rom-com and all our problems have finally melted away, but it’s the opposite. After saying goodbye, I ride in the back of the car to my apartment, reliving the kiss, the pressure of his hands against me, the urgency in his mouth, and his words from dinner bouncing around my mind.
As I walk toward the apartment building, a man approaches me. He’s wearing a dark suit with sunglasses, despite the late hour. It’s weird.
“Miss,” he says, his voice stiff. “I’ve got a package for you.”
Before I can think to question what was going on, he handed me the manilla envelope and walked away.
“Wait, what? Who are you?”
He’s already walking down the street. He climbs into a dark vehicle, tires screeching as he speeds off, leaving my head to spin as I try to figure this out. Opening the envelope, I stare at the photos, a lump in my throat as I imagine what Mom would say if she saw them.
I think about going back in time by an hour, slapping the past version of me across the face.