Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Just rough enough to leave a mark.
I fucking loved seeing them on her, and when she asked for them, it felt like a gift. But I was about to lose it all.
“Hey. You okay?”
I realized I’d zoned out. “Yes.”
She set her fork down and picked up her wine glass. “You’re a little out of it tonight.”
“Sorry. A client just walked in, and I got distracted thinking about work,” I lied. “We’re really busy next week, and I’m trying to get Xander’s bar top done, and Quentin called again asking about a table for his gallery. I want to say yes, but I need more hours in the day.”
“I wish you’d talk to your dad,” she said.
I picked up my whiskey and took a sip. “I wish a lot of things.”
We spent our final night together in my bedroom, and in some ways, it seemed like the opposite of our first night together in hers. The chemistry was just as hot, the build-up just as intense, the release just as satisfying, but in place of the playful banter, there was silence. Where the mood had been light, it felt heavy. If last weekend there had been a sense that things were just getting started between us, last night had the inescapable weight of an ending.
Afterward, as we lay in each other’s arms, neither of us spoke. Which was normal for me, but Veronica’s uncharacteristic silence was unnerving. I wondered what she was thinking about, but I didn’t ask. I racked my brain, trying to come up with a way this could continue, but I came up empty. I wished I had the words—and the nerve—to tell her how I felt, but I didn’t.
And maybe it would have been a mistake anyway. What good would it do her to hear that I didn’t want to lose her, that this week had been more to me than just sex, that she made me feel things I didn’t want to feel, couldn’t explain, and had no idea what to do about?
I knew exactly what she’d say.
What things, Austin? What do you feel?
So I held her for one more night and stayed silent.
“Daddy!” The twins rushed off the plane and wrapped their arms around me.
“Hey!” My throat closed up as I hugged them back, and my eyes grew a little misty. “I missed you two.”
“We missed you too.” Owen’s tan had grown deeper, and he wore a shirt I’d never seen that said California Dreamin’ with palm trees and a surfboard on it.
“Where’s Veronica?” Adelaide asked. Her hair looked even lighter, bleached by the sun, and freckles were dusted across the bridge of her nose.
“She’s at home making dinner.” She hadn’t offered to come with me this time.
“I hope it’s tacos,” Adelaide said a little warily. “That’s my favorite thing she makes.”
“Actually, while you were gone, she learned how to cook more things. In fact, she found a slow cooker in the basement I forgot I had, and she’s making brown sugar barbecue chicken sandwiches for us.”
“We told her barbecue was your favorite,” Owen said. “That’s probably why she’s making it.”
It probably was, which didn’t help.
I changed the subject. “So you had a good time on your trip?”
“Yes! I took surfing lessons,” said Owen proudly as we headed for luggage claim.
“Me too,” Adelaide chimed in. “And we went hiking, and slept in a tent, and had our fortunes told!”
“You did?”
“Yes. My fortune is very good. I’m going to be rich and famous.”
“She didn’t say that, she just said you were going to be on TV,” argued Owen. “You could be, like, a weather person or something boring like that.”
“And what’d she say to you?” I elbowed my son gently.
“I’m going to travel the world,” he announced. “Maybe as a pilot.”
“That’s fine, you can fly me around in my plane,” said Adelaide.
I grinned. “I’m so glad to have you guys back.”
Maybe with the twins home again, I’d be so distracted with dad stuff, I wouldn’t even have time to miss Veronica.
At least, that’s what I was hoping.
When we got back, she was there in the kitchen, ready with huge smiles and hugs for the kids. “Wow, look at you guys! I’m jealous of your suntans! Wash your hands, then come sit at the table and tell me everything. I hear you showed off your tap dancing while you were there.”
But she barely looked in my direction. It had been like that all day.
This morning, she’d slipped out of bed early, leaving me lonely and disappointed. When I went down to make coffee, she was nowhere to be found, but about twenty minutes later, she jogged up the driveway and began stretching in the yard.
I thought about going out there, making sure we were okay—it wasn’t like her at all to ghost me in bed—but then figured she probably needed her space. I’d ask her how she was doing when she came in for coffee.