Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 111775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
“But you let me in.”
“I did,” I breathed.
Several moments of quiet passed before he typed, “Have things been moving too fast for you? Because we can slow down.”
His offer made my heart lift, some of the heaviness that had been weighing down my emotions eased significantly. Maybe that was what we needed, to slow things down so I didn’t feel so panicked about how much closer we’d been getting. But at the same time, I didn’t want him to pull back. I didn’t want to see him any less often than I did now.
“I still want to spend time with you, though. I mean, the same amount of time. I’ll miss you if …”
“We can still spend time together.” There was a pause as a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Just with less of the heavy petting.”
As soon as he typed it, my whole face flared with heat. I needed to get a grip. I was a thirty-one-year-old woman. I shouldn’t be getting shy over him mentioning what we’d done in my bed. My bed that was currently only a few feet away.
“That sounds like a good plan,” I said, then took a long gulp of coffee. Thankfully, it had cooled down enough it didn’t burn my throat.
Shay was still looking at me, his smile growing larger by the second. “You’re fucking beautiful, do you know that?”
I blinked, wondering if my ears were deceiving me, mainly because Shay rarely swore. The way he was looking at me stole my breath. “You’re not so bad yourself,” I said and focused back on my breakfast. I felt him push my hair over my shoulder.
“It’s going to be hard not touching you,” he typed, and I could practically hear the longing in his words. I ate the last of my croissant, too full of butterflies to respond.
***
Two weeks went by, and we fell into an easy rhythm. We sat together on the bus each day and continued getting to know one another. I hadn’t attended Sunday dinner again, but that was because the Connollys had wanted me to work an extra day to help prepare for some family members who were coming to visit. And the Sunday after that, I’d promised Vivi I’d bring her to buy some new shoes for school.
I continued attending my literacy class, which I was finding incredibly challenging, but I was determined to stick it out. It was one of the toughest things I’d ever done, and though it was way out of my comfort zone, I was determined to keep attending and improving my reading and writing. I hated when I got things wrong, and my brain kept telling me I should quit and go back to how things were, but I refused. I tried to focus on the positives. It was nice to meet the other people in the class and see I wasn’t alone. There were students of all ages there, many a lot older than me, which was reassuring.
I still hadn’t decided whether to accept Jonathan Oaks’ job offer. He’d texted me that morning to say I had three more days to consider it before he moved on to other candidates. I just kept replaying what Rhys had said about him being a nightmare boss, and I wasn’t sure if the pay increase was going to be worth the added stress.
It was the night of Mrs Reynold’s party, and her husband had no idea she’d been planning it. Well, I hoped he really didn’t know because I suspected if he didn’t act sufficiently gobsmacked and delighted when he got home tonight, she was going to blow a gasket. All the planning was clearly starting to get to her. I’d already witnessed her have a screaming match with one of the caterers. I was going out of my way to be as quiet and unnoticeable as possible to avoid facing her wrath.
I felt like a tiny dormouse scurrying from room to room just hoping not to be squished under anyone’s foot.
Today was Saturday, so I hadn’t seen Shay since he’d walked me home yesterday after the bus. We’d been spending the same amount of time together, but without the touching. I didn’t expect to miss it so much.
I missed his kisses most of all.
But slowing things down was good. That way, there was less chance of me freaking out and pushing him away because of some catastrophic possibility my brain conjured up.
I’d arrived at Mrs Reynolds’ house hours ago, making sure the kitchen and all the bathrooms were spotless, and helping with some of the decorating. The party guests had just started to arrive, and my job was to clean up spills and collect any empty glasses or plates left about. I wore black trousers and a black blouse to fit in with the servers, my hair fashioned in a neat bun. I’d initially had it in an equally neat ponytail, but Mrs Reynolds insisted I redo it into a bun because it would look classier.