Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
She did want children.
She did want a house in the country, to settle a world away from big city working life.
She wanted to build a home, much like the man and woman who inspired us to reach beyond what we thought possible.
Had things been different, we might be halfway there by now.
Yet, there we sat, suddenly solemn, all hints of playfulness from the start of the evening gone, as we pretended to be together, but it was only the label that was a lie.
Because make no mistake, I love her with all I am, and Noel Aarons loves me to her core.
The problem?
She has all the reasons to hate me just as much.
This is exactly why I ‘accidentally’ knocked my glass over at dinner and allowed it to soil my slacks, so as we parted ways after eating, I could excuse myself to my room, giving Noel the space I know she needed and the time to swaddle her agony into anger.
Not to mention the forty-five-minute span she most definitely, filled with a few more glasses of merlot.
It doesn’t take long to locate her, her infectious laughter falling over me before I can round the entrance to the fifth floor. I admire the large wooden beams above on my approach, stretching from one corner of the room to the next, long white wisterias hanging from the tops of it, silver and blue lights woven within them, creating a serene setting in the large area and holding it as you cross over into the open pub, the one and only place within the resort dedicated for the twenty-one and older crowd. It’s not too busy at the moment, most of the guests having chosen to attend the event in Santa’s Workshop tonight over this place, or at least as a starting point of the night.
As the night goes on, though, I would wager many couples will make their way here. The music is soft, the lights low, but the chatter is alive, and the glow is coming from the left corner of the bar, where the brown-haired beauty has situated herself.
I drop into a seat at the opposite end of the bar, my eyes roaming the room, taking in the subtle hints of Christmas plaited all around. Bundles of pine cones sit atop the tall beams of each corner, glittered layers of faux snow and poinsettias delicately mixed. Silver and red ornaments fill long glass vases and sit every few feet along the upper beams, mistletoe hanging over the edges with pine-colored ribbons.
A long sigh leaves me, and I spin in my chair, a glass set before me in that exact moment.
My head pops up in question and the bartender nods his chin.
“Warm whiskey.” And then he’s gone.
I frown, my eyes snapping to the woman I came here to see.
Noel laughs at something one of her team members says as she raises her glass to her lips. Only then do her eyes slide this way.
They meet mine for a single second, and then they’re gone.
My lips twitch, but the tension in my stomach doubles, tightening until I’m forced to sit taller. I down the glass in one go, tapping it on the bar top in signal for a second, which is passed my way quickly.
I won’t throw this one back, though. No, I’ll sip it slow, savor the bitter vanilla flavor as it burns against my throat.
This is her sneak attack, her silent little threat wrapped in a sugary surprise.
Noel is here for a good time, and I’m not to dare ruin it for her.
Guilt weighs heavy on my shoulders, as it should, and I have no intention of dimming her spirits that were on the highest high when the evening started, and judging by the looks of it—and the gesture—she’s found a way to push the heavy aside and has gone back to relishing in her accomplishment.
She didn’t have to acknowledge my presence, but she did, and with a warm memory, as small and insignificant as it might seem. My simple drink of choice, making sure I knew who it came from and inviting me into the celebration, if even only from afar.
This dream was years in the making, something she locked on to the moment she read the article in Sports Magazine, the season Noah Riley joined the Tomahawks as a walk-on, having declined to participate in the draft his first year of eligibility. At the time, we were nothing but kids, fresh out of college, and had no clue how to make it happen. Over time, though, she put together a business plan, and it was a solid one.
Still, she needed money to make it happen and had little of it.
She needed connections, and the kind she was after wasn’t in our tiny hometown. She needed big city moguls, and I needed to become the person she needed most.