Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“I don’t know if additional security would be in our budget,” I reply honestly.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover everything since I’m the reason this is happening. And if there are any more negative messages or backlash, I need you to let me know so we can address it immediately.”
“Okay. I can do that.”
He lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I was very worried today, London. I have to tell you, a three-hour flight has never seemed so long before. I wanted to be here the moment you called, and I hated that I couldn’t fix things right away, or that you felt unsafe. I didn’t like that you were kept waiting and wondering. I know how awful that can be.”
“It wasn’t my favorite either, but we’re fine now.” I realize he needs the reassurance in much the same way I did.
“Good. That’s good.” He takes my face between his hands and tips my chin up, covering my mouth with his. “I missed the way you taste.”
We don’t make it to the bedroom before we’re naked and I’m wrapped around him, absorbing his apology through touches and moans.
20
INTO THIS LOVE I FALL
LONDON
Jackson has to head back to New York early the next morning, and my night off means I have more Etsy orders I need to catch up on. I’m definitely burning the candle at both ends. I immerse myself in work, preparing for our event this weekend. It’s a bachelorette party, so it’s intimate, with only thirty guests.
That should mean less work instead of more, but the bride-to-be keeps changing her mind on linen colors, so I’ve had to change the tables three times. On Saturday morning I arrive at Spark House extra early so I can manage a few last-minute things and spray a bunch of picture frames for my Etsy orders.
Harley finds me passed out on the table, streaks of gold and silver spray paint on my face. “You need to get more than three hours of sleep a night.” Her fists are on her hips, her lips mashed in a line.
I scrub a hand over my face and blink several times. My eyeballs feel like rusty eggs. “I think we need to put our foot down and go with majority rules on hiring extra administrative help. This isn’t reasonable. We can’t even have outside interests or hobbies anymore without sacrificing sleep. It’s ridiculous.”
“I know. You’re right. Maybe if we find someone first, it’ll force her to agree,” Harley says.
“Maybe. I get that this is her baby, but she can’t run it without us. If I have a freaking nervous breakdown, she’s going to find out real fast how impossible this place is to run with no backup.”
“We’ll be fine after this weekend,” Harley tries to convince herself, but we both hear how hollow her words are.
“Really? Because my eyes are so bloodshot, it looks like I was hotboxing a bathroom and eye toked an entire blunt.”
“They aren’t that bad.”
I give her a look that calls out her blatant lie.
“Fine. We’re spending tomorrow morning sleeping in, and then you’re letting me help you tackle whatever orders you have left.”
“Okay.” I could use the sleep and I could also use the help.
“And we’re getting you some eyedrops so you don’t look like you’ve been frolicking in a field of burning marijuana.”
“That’s fair.”
* * *
I make it through the bachelorette party, but it’s a struggle. I’m very glad that Avery is the face of these events, although I’m getting a lot better at the whole peopling thing considering the number of events and dinners I’ve been to with Jackson over the past few months.
As soon as Harley and I get home, she confiscates my phone, gives me a dose of melatonin, and sends me to bed. I pass out hard. So hard, it’s nearly eleven by the time I finally open my eyes.
I pop out of bed, horrified that I’ve wasted those important hours on sleep. Despite all the hours I’ve spent unconscious, I’m still bleary-eyed. If I didn’t have a pile of orders to tackle, I could probably go back to bed and sleep for another six hours.
I rub my eyes and amble down the hall toward the kitchen, yawning all the way. I need coffee, and then I need to get my ass in gear. Thankfully there’s already a fresh, mostly full pot on the counter. My mug is sitting beside it. I drop in a spoon of sugar and a dash of cream and fill it within half an inch of the rim. The first sip is always the best.
I sigh, wishing I could go back to bed with my coffee and lie there for the next hour, answering emails, but I have orders that need my attention.
I head to the living room, which is where I usually set up when I’m filling orders and come to an abrupt stop when I find my sisters in there. And my stuff is already set up.