Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
The instinctive thought pushed in, that he should call his father, that he was off track and a few minutes on the phone with the elder Fitzsimmons’s disappointed silence and passive-aggressive advice would remind Fitz exactly why he was on this road trip in the first place. Robert Fitzsimmons wasn’t responsible for Fitz ending up in foster care, but he was the reason Fitz had lost the only real home he’d ever known. If his father taught him anything, it was that the only person Fitz could depend on was himself. Ren made him want to forget all of that. He couldn’t afford to.
But then she rolled over, sleepily humming into his chest, and every other thought evaporated into the ether.
He’d been on his best behavior last night, though at the time it felt like it might kill him. They watched a movie, then brushed their teeth in the new side-by-side routine they’d fallen into. They climbed into bed, and he kissed her only once. Just a simple peck. When she pushed up, wordlessly asking for more, he admitted he was worried it wouldn’t end there.
“Is that bad?” she’d asked.
“No, of course not,” he’d told her. “But you only get these firsts one time. We shouldn’t blow through them.”
“You mean I shouldn’t blow through them,” she’d said into the darkness.
“No, I mean we. These are firsts for me, too.”
He hadn’t known what she’d thought of that, because she hadn’t said anything else. He didn’t even know what he thought because he didn’t give himself time to examine it too closely. It felt too soon to say it, too heavy, but Ren had only ever been fully herself with him, and so he tried that type of bald honesty on with her like a borrowed coat. It felt good. It felt so good that they’d both fallen asleep the way a match goes out, a gentle, soundless surrender into darkness.
When the sun streaked across the foot of the bed, though, Nashville called, only a handful of hours away. Fitz felt the pull of two directions again: forward to the next step of his plan, and down, rooted to the bed and the promise of things he’d never let himself hope for. He wasn’t sure how to handle the way this new, hungry feeling mixed with the sour cocktail of all his old ones, so he did what he did best: He pushed forward.
“Wake up, Sunshine,” he told her, kissing her neck. “We gotta hit the road.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
FITZ
It was only when they pulled up in front of the hotel in Nashville that Fitz remembered how he’d splurged on this one, anticipating the way doubt might creep in at the last minute before his internship interview, hissing in his ear that he wasn’t law firm material, that a kid like him couldn’t begin to hang in the world he hoped to conquer. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it was a heap of steps up from where they’d stayed so far, and he could see the intimidation flood Ren’s posture the moment she stepped foot in the lobby.
Everything was marble, crystal, brass. The atrium had towering ceilings, with a glass dome far up in the air. To one side was an imperial staircase, on the other was a cluster of plush seating areas. There were urns spilling fresh flowers everywhere, uniformed employees hovering near every wall, ready to jump to service. The lobby was full of guests, too, chatting in small groups, greeting each other across the space, embracing. The park outside was full of booths and tents and chaos that spilled into the hotel. There was definitely some sort of event happening, that much was clear.
“Holy cow, Fitz.” Ren stepped closer, sliding her hand into his. “Are we staying here?”
“We are.”
“You really are rich.”
There was no edge in her words, only awe, but for the first time in years, it bothered him that someone thought Robert Fitzsimmons’s money was his, too. He’d let so many omissions and white lies linger between them. He should clarify right there, should tell her that the cash she got at the Screaming Eagle was the most cash he’d ever held in his life, that he was a scholarship kid, too, that everything was riding on his grades, and that’s why she found him in Audran’s office that night. But instead, he swallowed it all down, squeezed her hand, and led her to the reception desk.
Ren’s attention was behind them during check-in, watching all the bustle in the hotel lobby with rapt attention.
As soon as the woman stepped away to program the keys to their room, Ren tugged on his arm. “Fitz. Look.”
He followed her gaze to where a handful of people pushed carts loaded with boxes through the front lobby doors. Others were still checking in or chatting in the adjoining coffee shop, with brightly colored cowboy hats tucked under an arm or wearing flashing LED necklaces around their necks.