Only One Chance (Only One #2) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Only One Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 81745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
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The next day, I get to the coffee shop at nine forty-five. Pulling open the door, I step in, sliding my glasses off and hanging them on my shirt. I look around the café at the three walls painted black and a wall with exposed brick. Black tables are all around the room with a brown couch in the corner. The coffee bar is along the brick wall, and I smile at the guy behind the counter. I order two lattes, and he tells me to grab a seat, and he’ll bring them to me. I look over and see that they have fresh muffins and croissants. I order two of each and then walk to the open door in the back of the room. It leads to a back patio filled with the same black tables and a huge white awning over it. I grab a table in the corner and text her that I’m already here.

I watch the door the whole time, and I start to panic when it’s past ten o’clock. I’m about to call her when I see her walking into the back. Her eyes roam the room until she spots me. I get a chance to look at her. She is wearing dark blue jeans with a beige sweater tucked into the front and a leather jacket that hangs open. She looks so fucking sexy. She walks over as soon as she sees me, and I get up. “Morning, gorgeous,” I say, shocking her when I lean down and kiss her cheek.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says. I grab the empty chair and hold it for her to sit down in. “Thank you.”

“I ordered you a latte,” I tell her. “But I think it’s cold.”

“That’s okay,” she says. I sit next to her, and I’m so happy that she came. She picks up a cup and takes a sip. “It’s still warm.”

“I can get you another one,” I say, and she just shakes her head. “It’s fine.”

“How have you been?” I ask awkwardly, and she laughs.

“This is awkward, right?” she says, and I want to take her hand in mine. “It’s weird.”

“It’s because you didn’t answer my text.” She laughs.

“Which one?” she answers, and it’s my turn to laugh now.

“I wouldn’t have had to send you all those texts if you’d just answered me back,” I tell her.

“You are persistent. I will give you that,” she says. “But honestly, you didn’t need to be.” She takes another sip of her coffee and tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Look, if I did or said anything that offended you …” I start, and I’m suddenly nervous that she is going to get up and leave. “I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t say anything. She just looks at me, and I wish I knew how to read her. “Thank you,” she says softly, “for not meaning to offend me.”

“I seriously missed talking to you,” I tell her. “Even though we never really talked before, I missed joking with you and asking you questions.”

“That’s a really nice thing to say.” She looks down.

“I have to be somewhere in twenty minutes,” I tell her when I see it’s almost ten twenty. “Will you come with me?”

“So you double-booked yourself?” She laughs. “I’m shocked.”

“Will you come with me?” I ask her, not willing to tell her that this is something I do once a month.

“I don’t know,” she answers, not sure.

Standing, I grab her hand in mine. “I promise you are going to love it.”

She rolls her eyes, and I laugh, relieving the tightness in my chest. “Fine, let’s go.”

We walk out, and I put my glasses on and open the car door for her. “I can take my car,” she says, stopping.

“So you can take off on me?” I joke. “Not a chance.”

With a laugh, she gets in the car. I close the door after her and get into the car and make my way over to the standing engagement I have. We park in the parking lot, and when we get out, she looks over at me. “Are we here to get your monthly STI check?” She looks at the hospital building. I clap my hands together and laugh.

“That was a good one,” I say, “and if you are keeping track, I had mine two months ago, and I’m clean.”

“A lot can change in two months.” She looks over at me as we walk into the hospital lobby and head straight to the elevator. I laugh and press the button for the fourth floor. “Seriously, though,” she says quietly, “what are we doing here?” The elevator doors open, and I put out my hand so she can walk, and she stops in the middle of the room. “What?” she asks, looking around, and I’m about to tell her when the doctor comes toward us.



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