Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I school my features into a hard mask and force myself to not roll my eyes. Christ, he’s so corny, but he did say something that resounds with me on a personal level.
I control my own destiny.
I’ve cut my father out of my life. I’m turning my back on his toxicity.
And at the same time, I’ve invited Harlow deeper in. Not to replace the hole left by Brooks or by my absent, manipulative parents, but to fill something that’s been expanding within me.
A growth of sorts, whereby I’m opening myself up in ways I’d never imagined. I’ve let Harlow in, and now I can only hope I don’t get hurt by it.
CHAPTER 23
Harlow
I patiently wait at the table for Stone to arrive. This is not the first time I’ve hung out with him after a game. As he had done in the past, a reservation for a high-top table was made at Mario’s, and I enjoy a frosty glass of strawberry lemonade while I wait for him to finish his business at the arena.
The Titans won tonight, and it was one of the best games I’ve ever seen in my life. Part of that has to do with the fact that they came back from a 2–to–0 deficit in the third period, to win 4–2 over the Quebec Royals.
That’s right, four goals scored in the third period alone.
Two of which were Stone’s.
I’m sure this is one of the best games I’ve ever seen because Stone played like he was on fire. And while I’m quite sure I’m his number one fan, it is vastly different now that we’ve become intimate. I cannot get all poetic about how amazing last night was with him, how touched I was this morning when he took Odin out and was patient with my boy. Or how much it meant that he settled in for breakfast and good conversation with a gracious laugh that Odin spoiled his bedroom plans.
Hell, I was disappointed, too, but the time we spent talking was just as good.
Many women might even go so far as to say that what I had with Stone last night was transcendental.
Life-changing.
I can’t say that, though.
My life is still the same, amazing in all its glorious ways. But it has been so greatly enhanced by getting to know Stone, and now taking this relationship to a new level, what has changed is my future. I know in my gut that he is going to be responsible for a lot of goodness yet to come.
And so maybe that’s why it was the best game I’ve ever seen—because of a man I am probably falling in love with who was instrumental in helping his team win. And every Titans win is a healing balm to the cuts this city has endured since the plane crash.
Mario’s starts to fill up with people from the arena trickling over. I see a couple of lawyers who I know fairly well, and they hang out at the table with me for a bit. They ask me to join them at their table, but I let them know I’m waiting for a friend. I would’ve invited them to stay, but frankly I am looking forward to alone time with Stone.
The waitress is overly solicitous as I’m sure she’s been told this table belongs to Stone Dumelin. I no more get finished with my strawberry lemonade than she has a refill for me.
She returns a few moments later and says, “There’s a guy at the bar who wants to buy you a drink. I told him you weren’t drinking, but he insists I come over and offer one to you, anyway.”
I follow her gaze to a very handsome man sitting by himself with a beer in front of him. He’s watching me like a hawk, and when our eyes meet, he raises his beer in a silent toast, his eyes hopeful for an invitation.
I give my attention back to the waitress. “Politely decline. I’m definitely not drinking, and I’m waiting here for my boyfriend.”
The waitress leans in closer, conspiratorially. “So, you’re dating Stone Dumelin?”
Hadn’t meant to reveal that to anyone, so I play coy. “Just tell the man thank you, but no thanks.”
Slightly disappointed I didn’t give her what she wanted, she still winks at me. “You got it.”
I sip my strawberry lemonade, which I now realize must look ridiculous sitting in the bar area of Mario’s full of rowdy Titans fans most of whom are drinking booze. And those who aren’t, aren’t drinking strawberry lemonade from the kids’ menu.
I shrug to myself. Who cares what people think?
Someone touches me on the shoulder, and I swivel in my chair to see the man from the bar who wanted to buy me a drink. Without invitation, he puts his beer on the table and leans an elbow on it to face me. “I can’t believe you’re not going to let me buy you a drink.”