Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“I guess,” she said. “Except we’re not on vacation. It’s a cheap way to live. Maybe you don’t have them in England. My parents have never been able to keep a job longer than three weeks at a time, so cheap was what we needed if I was going to pay rent on two places.” Her tone was very matter-of-fact. She clearly wasn’t looking for sympathy but she’d obviously not grown up with much. Coming to London must have taken a lot—not just money, but vision. Drive.
“You still live there?” I asked. Living so far away, in a different country, and in many ways, a different world, it was difficult to picture her in her natural environment. And I found myself wanting to know who she was—before London, back in America—who she was right at the core of herself.
Her mouth twitched a little, almost as if she was considering what answer to give. She shrugged. “Doesn’t make me a bad person.” Her voice faded as she turned away and headed back to the fridge.
I hadn’t meant for her to feel judged. I pushed my stool back and followed her. Why would she think that’s what I meant? I stood behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. “I think something got lost in translation. I wasn’t suggesting it was a bad thing.”
She froze. “I’m not after your money, if that’s what you think.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you talking about? I have about fifty quid in my wallet and you’re welcome to it. But it hadn’t crossed my mind that you were after it.” It was as if we were having two entirely separate conversations. She was clearly worked up about something. “Did I say something wrong? I’ve offended you but I don’t know how.”
She relaxed into my arms and tipped her head back onto my chest. “I don’t know what’s got me so worked up—defensive and acting crazy. I’ve never dated a guy with money—no, that’s not it . . . I’ve just never met someone like you. I like you and I’m not used to feeling this way. It’s making me edgy.” She twisted out of my arms and began scraping the potatoes she’d just taken from the fridge.
I wanted to make her feel better. “You’re edgy because you like me?”
“Okay, Mr. Gigantic Ego—”
“Hey,” I said, leaning against the counter as she focused on the vegetables. “We broke through the surface, remember. I’m asking so I understand, not so I can poke fun at you.” I paused. I hadn’t had a conversation like this with a woman for a long time—about feelings and emotions. And it wasn’t because the women in my life hadn’t tried. One by one they had come at my ice with a pickaxe and one by one, I’d managed to hold my defenses in place. Eventually they’d given up or I’d shifted away from them in every sense. But here I was with Hollie, handing her the axe and hoping we might melt in each other’s sunshine.
“Everything is different here in London. Probably because I’m so far away from home in so many ways. This isn’t a normal situation. You’re not normally the kind of guy I date . . . I don’t know how to explain it. I’m used to dating men who I’m not that into.” She abandoned the potato on the work surface and came over to the island.
“So why do you date them? Are you bored?”
She tossed the blackberries into a normal looking sieve and held them under the tap before transferring them to a bowl. “On paper we look like we should fit, you know? Similar backgrounds and families. But it’s like where I am physically and where I am in my head are two different places. So, we match in terms of geography but mentally . . .” She shook her head. “I’m not making any sense. But you and me, we’re the opposite. You’re this super successful guy, you live in London, you certainly didn’t grow up in a trailer park. But in here—” She knocked the potato on her head. “In here, it’s like, not that we’re in the same place but . . . you’re where I want to get to.”
She pulled out a rolling pin from a drawer as I tried to digest what she was saying. What she was talking about was connection. Fit.
And I understood because I felt the same.
“I’m not confessing my undying love, don’t worry,” she said, maybe to fill the silence I’d left.
“I didn’t think you were. I have a suggestion.” I wanted to make her feel more comfortable—less edgy. “I think we should just spend some time deliberately trying not to analyze what’s going on. Just enjoy it.”
She nodded her head. “You’re right. I need to relax.”