Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Sure it makes the money back; it’s just the limbo before the profit that we suffer through. We’re still not poor by any means of the word but we do have to watch our pennies until we’re sure the store is going to continuously pull in profit.
“You look lost.” Nathan taps my fingertips that rest around the bottom of my wine glass.
“I’m always in my head these days.”
Tickling gentle patterns over my knuckles, he doesn’t speak. I think he’s as scared as I am that it’ll start another war between us.
“We should order,” he tells me and I realise that I’ve been sitting here completely ignoring the menu that rests open on the table. His laughter is quiet and loving. Giving my fingers another tap, he removes his hand and takes a sip of his drink.
“I’ll have the salmon.”
“I’m having the steak.”
“Ribeye?”
“Always.”
I flag down the same waiter who escorted us to the table. He comes our way, smiling and happy, looking smart in a three-piece suit. “Are you ready to order?”
Nathan instructs him on our food and how we like it as I peruse the dessert menu. I have to be prepared for later.
“I hate seeing you this lost,” Nathan mutters as the waiter leaves us. My finger circles the rim of my glass, causing a high pitched but quiet ringing noise to sound.
“I hate that there’s something between us,” I respond before my brain can come up with an excuse to push it back.
“There isn’t anything between us.”
“You don’t trust me with your secrets. You know everything about me.”
“Not everything.” He winks as though this entire thing is a joke. That’s frustrating because it’s not a joke; it’s the opposite.
What’s the opposite of joke?
Serious?
Well this is definitely serious.
“It’s good to have a bit of mystery in a relationship.”
“Mystery, yes.” I snap and lean back in my chair. “Lies, no.”
“I’m not lying to you.”
“You’re not?”
“No, I just… I need time.”
“So you’ve said.” I mumble and look away. “This isn’t going to change until you talk to me.”
He blows out a heavy breath. “I’m starting to see that.”
“Put yourself in my shoes.”
“It’s complicated.”
“It always is with you.”
“Please,” he begs and reaches for my hand. “Please let’s just enjoy tonight.”
“I’m trying. Honest to God, Nathan, I am trying.” My teeth bite on my lip. The urge to stand and pace is unbearable but I remain seated purely so I don’t look foolish.
“I love you, Gwen.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“So you’ve said.” I hiss. My hand clenches my glass so tightly I worry it will shatter so I loosen my grip and try desperately to relax my body.
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
When I shake my head, ‘no’, he sighs and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands. “You used to be more patient.”
“And then I found out my was-to-be husband set me up,” I point out. “I’m feeling a little bitter about patience, as you can imagine. I don’t like not knowing things.”
“We’re really bringing that up now?”
“It brought itself up,” I grumble, no longer feeling hungry or happy. “Don’t look at me like I’m being unreasonable when I’m on the receiving end of your inability to communicate.”
“Okay, let’s stop. This is spiralling again.” He closes his hand over mine and dips his head so our eyes meet. “Please, Gwen, I’m begging you. Just give me time to figure out how I feel about everything that’s happening right now.”
When he asks me so desperately, how can I refuse? “Not forever.”
“No.” His fingertips squeeze mine. “Not forever. Just a little while.”
“Fine, I’ll do my best to leave it alone.” I use my free hand to bring my glass to my lips.
“I love you; don’t ever doubt that,” he implores.
“I love you too,” I reply and we share a loving smile. “I do have faith, you know?”
“I know.”
“Now that things have calmed a bit, I’ve been thinking.” I clear my throat and mentally prepare myself for the conversation about to follow. “We need to decide who gets the kids upon our deaths and get it in writing.”
He blanches and I notice him visibly pale. “Why?”
“Because your parents are awful enough to get custody in the events of our deaths.”
He pales further and nods slowly in agreement. “You’re right.”
“I’m just thinking of worst case scenario…”
“No, I understand. I think it’s smart. Life is short and can easily be made shorter.” He sneers with disgust as his next words spill from his mouth. “And the thought of Dillan and Emily in my father’s care.”
I place my hand over his clenched fist and tickle the knuckles of his fingers with my thumb. “Then we need to get this all in writing as soon as possible.”
“Yes, now we just need to choose who gets them. I don’t particularly trust our parents.”