Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 151864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
“Tyler, look,” she reiterates, the phone coming toward me. I force my eyes downward begrudgingly. But then my hand takes on a mind of its own, claiming the phone and bringing it closer so I can ensure I’m seeing right. I’m a handsome man. I know that. And Lainey is a beautiful woman. I know that too, above all things I know. But what I’m transfixed by now isn’t handsome and it isn’t beautiful. It’s utter perfection. Me laughing, Lainey’s palms resting on my chest, my arm holding her in place, our mouths nearly touching.
You won’t even have to think about how to love her. You just will.
Holy shit. “We really do,” I say quietly, falling into a trance that’s dominated by images of Lainey. All Lainey. I want this picture blown up to epic proportions, framed and hung on my office wall so I can stare at it all day long. I want her with me every second in one form or another. I need to see her. To smile when I catch a glimpse of her face. Which makes our situation all the more frustrating, because I can’t have this picture on display. I can’t indulge her and spoil her. Not whenever I want, anyway. Back in the real world, our work world, we’re on lockdown. We’re cautious, creeping around. Today has made me realize I resent that more than I already did. For the love of God, I’m a joint owner in Christianson Walker. So what if my partner has a hissy fit? He’ll have to get over it. I won’t let anyone make Lainey’s life difficult at work. I’m the boss. I have that power. Why am I doing this to myself? My time with Lainey today has been the best, and I begrudge the thought of us going back to work and not having this. The easiness. The laughs. The affection.
I look up and find Lainey studying me, her head cocked in question. Dare I tell her that I want the whole fucking world to know she’s my girl? I don’t know, but I do know one thing without a shadow of doubt: I can’t go on like this. I just want to be with her, and if that makes me a fucking pussy, I’ll gladly meow every day for the rest of my life.
“Send it to me,” I order Lainey, handing back her phone.
“So it’s you who wants to gaze at me?” The deep satisfaction in her eyes only reinforces my thoughts. I won’t stand for any nonsense Lainey might throw at me over work. My feelings are growing too strong to ignore her in the presence of work colleagues. Lainey must understand that. We need to talk about how we’re going to handle it. I want more. I want all of her.
“Yes.” I place my hand on the back of her head and pull her close, kissing her forehead. “Send it.” My phone dings two seconds later, and I glimpse at Lainey, the real Lainey, finding her looking at me, deep in thought. “What?”
She shakes her head mildly. “Nothing. Where’s your mum?”
We both scan the area, finding we’re alone. “I don’t know.” My phone chimes, and I glance at the screen, seeing a message from Mum.
As your mother, I’m ordering you not to bugger this up. Your father would have loved to see you this smitten. He would have adored her. Mum x
Tears. They creep up on me and force me to cough them back. How could she pull that card on me? Not that she has to. I know good and well what Dad would have thought of Lainey. Any woman who has this effect on me would gain his approval. I smile on the inside, seeing his stern face as he tells me to be wise. To follow my heart. To be happy.
There are no words that aptly describe that feeling of rightness. My heart is home.
I get it now. I get it, Dad. My heart is home.
“You okay?” Lainey breaks into my reflections, moving into my front and sliding her hand onto my nape. “Ty?” She looks up at me in question, almost in concern.
“Fine.” The lump in my throat makes my unconvincing lie sound hopeless. “I’m fine.” My phone is gone from my hand before I get the chance to safely tuck it away, and Lainey’s eyes are running from left to right across the screen. Silence falls, long and uncomfortable, until I resort to breaking the tension by claiming my phone back. She doesn’t put up a fight, just lets me take it from her hand. I tuck it away and pointlessly hope she didn’t get the chance to read Mum’s message, when in reality I know she had more than enough time.
“Are you smitten?” she asks, backing away from me.