Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 73(@250wpm)___ 61(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 73(@250wpm)___ 61(@300wpm)
We stop in front of the bar, and she orders two glasses of Dom Perignon. “Here, dear. Have a sip. It will help.” I am literally speechless right now. Everything is so confusing and worse; if I let myself, I could believe it. No. I need to put an end to this. Putting the glass down carefully since the glass and the liquid in it is worth more than my salary four times over.
“I am afraid there has been a misunderstanding. I am not Balder’s girlfriend. He brought me here as a professional courtesy due to a misunderstanding.” There. I said it. I look at her, waiting for her response, and then she smiles at me and places her hand on my arm.
“Aren’t you a darling? No wonder he is so taken with you. You're adorable and innocent.” Did she just… is that a compliment or insult?
“Excuse me?” I hope I sound indignant.
“My son brings no one, colleague or otherwise, to any event. Let alone call them his soulmate. I can only imagine he needs a swift kick in the butt for not telling you outright his intentions, but I also know it must be something he feels is right.” Did she just say soulmate? Is that what that word means?
“May I have my date back, mother?” He wraps his arm around my waist and leans in my ear, “Sjelevenn, it is time to go.” My entire body shivers at his words and the warmth of his breath on my skin. Goosebumps follow the path, and I follow him.
Groaning, I get up, not letting myself think about everything that happened once we made it back to his place. It's laughable because I can still feel him between my legs still. Like a crack in a wall, tears begin falling from my face. “Oh God. What did I do?” I ask myself once more. “Oh no.” We didn’t use protection. “So stupid.” Hurriedly, I grab my clothes, and through the tears and stumbling over my dress, I make sure I have everything. Thank God he left a few minutes ago to grab something to eat.
I manage to slide my dress on and walk out of the door. The reflection in the elevator door makes me cry harder. I lost my virginity, did the walk of shame, and experienced guilt all in less than twenty-four hours. Fumbling, I order an Uber and am so happy when it says there is one at the end of the block. One of the perks of being in Anchorage. Not many people need Ubers.
I check his face and license plate and hop in. Once he pulls off, like a lunatic, I sit in the back of his car, crying my eyes out. “Are you okay, ma'am?” Hiccupping, I can’t answer him, and I don't know if I am.
I know most girls would be happy and thrilled by a man like Balder Jorgensen taking an interest in them, and I am not saying that I am not. However, where can this really go? I am not the wife of a politician, or an important man like him. I’m plain, dyslexic, insecure, Summer Frost. I am a woman who lives alone, dines alone, and has no family. I mean, how pathetic is that?
After the incident in high school, I stayed away from men. I have watched other girls in college and grad school fall for one, believing they are in love, and fall apart when their heart is broken. I told myself long ago that that would never be me, and you know what? I succeeded. That is until this tall, handsome, discerning tree of a man broke through my defenses by doing nothing but showing me what it is like to be desired and seen. He sees me. I can feel his eyes inside of my soul every time our gazes meet, and it scares the hell out of me. Not to mention it leaves me open to being hurt.
“We are here, Miss.” I look up and see the outside of my small one-story house. After handing him a cash tip, I get out and run inside my front door. As soon as it is locked, I lean against it and hold my head up to the sky.
“This is for the best, Summer. You know it is.” Why doesn’t it feel that way?
Shrugging, I walk into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. “Who are you?” I ask my reflection, not sure who is staring back at me. “Forget it,” I scold myself, turning on the shower. I just need a hot shower and a Moose Track ice cream bowl to wash the night off. Maybe one of the Wedding Veil movies on Hallmark. The one with Lacey Chabert is my favorite.
I don’t stay in the shower too long. I don’t want to. The longer I am in there, the more I regret washing him off of me and from inside of me. Once I am out, I wrap my hair in a towel and wipe the mirror off. “Ahh.” Scared as hell, I scream when a man is in my mirror. I don’t register his face until his hand is over my mouth.