Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“I’m surprised we can drink liquids in your custom-designed, hand-embroidered Ferrari.” She saunters off before I can reply, and probably best if I don’t.
It’s a nice view of her ass, but when she walks out, it’s that face and the golden-brown eyes that get me every time. I’m the luckiest fucking bastard in the world right now. And I’m going to make sure she knows it.
I open the door for her and help her slip inside. By the time I’m getting behind the wheel, she asks, “So, you got me. The clock starts now.”
24
Cate
We hit the highway, and I use the opportunity to peek over at him when he merges lanes. It’s not that I haven’t looked at him since I arrived at the apartment to find him waiting on me. It’s that I can’t bear to wait any longer to see how he’s physically changed since we were together.
I want to look at him, to stare, to analyze every new line, and see if the crinkles around his eyes have deepened. I want to swim in the blues of his eyes for a better vantage point.
Attraction was never the issue with Shane. He’s gorgeous, handsome beyond what I thought humanly possible. And looking at him now, not much has changed appearance-wise, but I sense a change that I can’t quite put my finger on. Humility? The jury is still out on that one.
The Ferrari is why he’ll be found guilty. Sure, he offered the keys to me, but it’s such a symbol of who he was last August that it’s hard to see anything new.
Maybe that’s on me, though—holding grudges when I don’t need to. I’m driving my same old car. Using that example, he’s being responsible by driving a car he already owned instead of trading it in for a new one each year.
I roll my eyes, needing to get out of my head so much. Geez, Cate, relax.
“Why aren’t you on tour?” I ask, fidgeting with my seat belt. “I thought Faris Wheel tours every summer?”
“Things have changed.” His eyes stay on the road, but I notice how his grip tightens around the steering wheel.
It wasn’t just the paperwork that demanded I be here. I wanted to come. Maybe I’m a masochist. I just think what happened between us can be explained now that we’ve put distance to it. Am I just feeding the curiosity beast, or can I get him to open up to me? “Like what?”
He laughs, though I’m not sure why. Changing lanes once more, he shrugs. “The band’s dynamic.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
Glancing over at me, he says, “Everything is fine with the band.” I shamelessly watch him, analyzing every detail of emotion that whisks its way across his face. I don’t say anything before he adds, “It is, but our priorities have shifted. Laird and Poppy had their twins, and—”
“They have twins?” I lean my head back and smile, remembering Laird from high school. He and Shane were practically inseparable and similar in so many ways. They both had every reason to be jerks—popular, attractive, charismatic—but they weren’t.
“Posey and Mack.” As if smiling for himself, he looks over and says, “They’re amazing. Mack is my little buddy. He wants me to hold him all the time and doesn’t need entertaining. He’s just happy to be in my arms.”
“And Posey?”
“She’s so smart. She’s got the brightest, bluest eyes and a giggle that has her dad wrapped around her little finger. She’s the sweetest like her mom.”
I’m not going to wave the green flag, but I’m ready to pull it out and streak through Griffith Park waving it like mad after listening to this giant of a man talk about his sweet baby cousins. “You close to them?”
He inhales a deep breath and blows out of his mouth slowly. The question seems to be hitting close to home from his reaction. “They’ve had a big impact on me.”
The calm I recognized, the cool confidence instead of cocky arrogance, the way he seems more relaxed in his whole being has me angling toward him. “I’ll interrogate you if you let me.”
“I don’t mind the questions. Not even the hard ones.” Briefly looking over, he says, “It’s what I wanted for us this weekend.”
His voice is steady, no fear to be found. No worries are heard. Everything about him makes me believe he’s telling the truth. But it still leaves a lingering question. “Why? Do you need closure? Want the information so you can move on with someone else? Why didn’t you just divorce me, Shane?”
Life seems to move faster in a Ferrari. We’ve reached the edge of LA and keep heading toward the mountains. The view doesn’t matter. I look at him, waiting to hear the one thing I could never figure out.
He says, “We were attracted to each other and thought that could save us. We barely knew each other and hadn’t built a foundation, much less anything strong enough to keep us together.”