Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Most of the houses around there . . .”
“Yeah, I get it. They rent them out for the summer. We don’t because we use ours.” He taps his head against the wall behind him, and a look of devastation comes over him. “Fuck.” Pulling me against him, he holds me tight.
I rest my head on his shoulder and wrap my arms around him. He kisses my head and then says, “To see all the pieces lined up but none of them matching the timelines of our lives leaves us with a bunch of missed connections.”
Closing my eyes, I need to feel the full strength of his embrace. “You’re not mad at me?”
“I’m mad at myself.”
“Why?”
“For not getting your number, for not asking for your last name, for not being awake when you had to leave so I could tell you goodbye.”
“I feel the same. I regret not trying harder.” I lean back, gently rubbing his cheek and coaxing a smile out of him. “But I did leave my number.”
His smile falls. “What do you mean?” he asks so genuinely that I’m taken aback a bit.
“What do you mean ‘what do I mean’? I left my number. You just never called me.”
Noah seems to comprehend my words but stares at me like I grew a third eye. “I didn’t get your number.”
“Well,” I say with a pop of my shoulders, “I left it.”
Standing upright, he shifts me back from him. Still holding my hips, though, he asks, “Where did you leave it?”
“On the dresser. You watched me write it out. We even joked about it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Liv.” His tone has turned, the playfulness disappeared.
I don’t like this line of questioning and take another step back, feeling defensive. “What do you want me to say? I left my number on the dresser with your stuff. Your wallet, even your phone was right there.”
“Why didn’t I get it then?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I reply, “I have no idea, but I left it for you.”
“You’re being serious right now, aren’t you?”
I stare at him, so confused. “Why would I lie about this?”
“I’m not saying you are, Liv.” He comes closer but is careful with his hands. Reaching out, he almost touches me but retreats again. “I’m just surprised to hear this. I would have called you if I’d had your number.”
“Well, you did.”
“I didn’t get it.” As if the world becomes clearer, he says, “That’s why you were mad at me. That’s why you hated me when you saw me in that conference room. You thought I didn’t call you. You didn’t realize that night with you was the best night of my life. Fuck, Liv. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to live the past few years thinking I didn’t care.” I lower my arms, hoping he gets the hint. He does and moves in again. Brushing the tips of his fingers through my hair, he says, “I can’t explain what happened to your number, but if I’d had it, I would have called you that day to tell you what an amazing night I had and make plans to see you again.”
The love in his words pumps through my heart like blood. “You didn’t even know where I was from.”
“Wouldn’t have mattered.” Slipping his arm around my waist, he closes the gap between our bodies. “I would have traveled to see you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I kiss him. Who cares about what could have been when it’s happening right now? “No time like the present to make it right.”
A wry grin slides onto his face, lifting the right side of his mouth. “There’s no time like the present.” Cupping my face, he kisses me with a thousand apologies hanging on his lips and the intentions I remember so well from that night.
But we both know it’s not the time or place, and our lips part and bodies separate. He reaches back to scratch his neck, something I’ve witnessed him do multiple times. I think it’s a tic he’s developed when perplexed or uneasy. I take his arm and hold his hand. “We’ll add this to our list of things to talk about, but for tonight, let’s enjoy the evening.”
“I agree.” He nods. “I should get back.”
As soon as I use the bathroom, I wash my hands and touch up my makeup. Since I went with smokier eyes, I chose a soft neutral pink close to the shade of my lips to draw his eyes to kiss instead of messing up. It worked as my kiss-swollen lips can attest.
Not wanting to waste any time, I hurry back, walking on cloud nine because of this day.
“Liv,” Port says when I round the corner and see them. “I was telling my son he should take the convertible because it’s a nice night. This gentleman doesn’t want to mess your hair up.”