Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“I don’t even know what to ask him to give,” I said, trying so hard not to cry, my nose burned. “He’s not lying about how tough it is for him to take on a relationship as a single dad.”
“Plenty of single dads have relationships.”
“But his situation is different, and Mariah is special, and he’s made promises to her and to himself that he can’t break, not even for me.” I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears. “Why would I even expect him to?”
“Because you’re worth it,” Blair said softly, giving me a squeeze. “And something tells me he knows that, and it’s only a matter of time before he comes to his senses.”
I smiled and hugged her arms. “Thank you. Spoken like a true sister. Now what do you say we forget about all my romantic troubles and focus on the fact that you and my brother are getting married today?”
She squealed. “Yes, sister!”
I laughed, feeling better. I might not have romance, but I had love in my life.
Today, I’d celebrate that.
Thirteen
Cole
I’d fucked up, and I knew it.
But it was hard to pinpoint exactly where I’d gone wrong. Was I trying to be someone else? Was it Moretti’s advice? Was I trying to have my cake and eat it too, getting Cheyenne in bed while maintaining our just friends status?
After staying up half the night thinking about it, I came to the conclusion that the truth was probably all of the above.
I could admit to myself that a lot of it was me trying to be someone else—someone more like Moretti, who enjoyed acting on his impulses and always managed to have a good time and keep things light. Take a girl back to her hotel room, have some fun, say goodnight. No lies, no promises, no problems.
But I wasn’t Moretti, I thought as I got out of bed and into the shower. And while taking his advice to let go and have fun had made me feel young and alive, pumped full of testosterone and adrenaline, it hadn’t turned out the way I’d hoped.
Because with Cheyenne, there was no way to keep things light. We’d known each other too long. I felt too much for her.
And she loved me—at least, she’d said she did. It had knocked me out the way she’d confessed it. I’ve loved you hopelessly for so long . . . I’d been shocked. She’d hinted at a childhood crush before, but this felt like something different. Something deeper. Something stronger and yet more fragile.
Spending the night with me would give her hope, she’d said, her eyes full of tears, but her smile a little sheepish, as if she were embarrassed that being so close to me would mean so much to her. My chest had felt like it was caving in.
I’d wanted nothing more than to pull her back into bed, put my arms around her, and show her it would mean everything to me too. That I wouldn’t take it lightly. That I’d never hurt her. That I’d guard her heart as fiercely as she would.
Stay with me, I wished I could have said. Kiss me. Touch me. Whisper my name, and I’ll whisper yours. Tell me again how you love me. Let me give you hope. Let me give you everything.
But the words had been stuck in my throat.
Instead, I’d fallen back into the rut. Kept the walls in place. I’d let her go and promised to stay away.
It was all I could offer her.
“So how’d it go last night?” Moretti asked. He, Beckett, and I were seated by the fireplace in the lobby with cardboard cups of coffee, waiting for Griffin to come down. Then we’d all head into town for a proper shave at a barber shop. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Griff, but I saw you and Cheyenne leave together.”
“I saw that too,” said Beckett from next to me on the couch. “What’s up with you guys?”
I sipped my coffee. “Uh, we left together, but it didn’t exactly go as planned.”
Moretti’s smile faded. “Don’t tell me. You fucked up the line.”
“No, the line was fine the way I delivered it.”
“What was the line?” Beckett wanted to know.
“I just asked her if she wanted to go up to my room.”
Moretti rolled his eyes. “You fucked up the line.”
“So what happened?” Beckett leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
I took another sip of coffee, debating how much to say. “We went to my room, and she changed her mind.”
“Why?” Moretti asked.
I shrugged. “She realized it would be a bad idea. And she was right.”
“But she wanted to?”
I thought of how wet she’d been when I touched her. The way she’d sucked my tongue into her mouth. How her body had moved against my hand. The thought of it nearly made me groan. “Yeah.”