Total pages in book: 12
Estimated words: 11290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 56(@200wpm)___ 45(@250wpm)___ 38(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 56(@200wpm)___ 45(@250wpm)___ 38(@300wpm)
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to fuck off and take his prim, judgmental attitude with him. But I was too desperate for his company. I was willing to beg for scraps.
I grabbed my place setting and moved to his table. “What a lovely invitation. Don’t mind if I do.”
He glared at me. “The condition of you sitting here is to stop this spoiled-brat routine. Understand?”
And now we were back to him being my guardian rather than my friend? “Yes, sir.”
Jon’s eyes roved over my face. “You haven’t been sleeping,” he accused. “Christ, Iggy, you know a night at home once in a while wouldn’t—” He shook his head once. “Why are you here?”
It took me a moment to find my voice. Jon cared. I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed that confirmation. “At your table? You invited me.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he did what he always did when he was unhappy with me. He waited me out until I started incriminating myself.
“I told you, I didn’t know you’d be here,” I began, dropping the fake cheer and sarcasm because it was exhausting. “Truly. I came because I remembered you talking about this train, and I…” I twisted my tongue inside my mouth, forcing it to say the words. “I wanted to be close to you. I missed you. Not the valeting. Not the managing. You, Jon. And I don’t know how I fucked things up or what I did to make you leave, but if you’ll come back with me, I’ll do anything—”
“Anything?” Jon looked down at the fork he was fiddling with. “Then tell me, why haven’t you had a serious relationship before?”
The question startled me, but I’d said anything. So, I’d be real with him, even if it scared him off. At least I’d know I’d given it—him, us—one last try.
I took a breath and laid my heart on the table between us. “I have been in love with the same man since I was fifteen. I would say fourteen, but I actually hated you a little at first. My father’s spy. The fun police. It wasn’t until I accidentally saw you with your shirt off that I realized how hard I could fall for a fun-killing prick.”
Jon swallowed. “You hardly knew me.”
“Don’t,” I snarled low. I didn’t want to make a scene, but I wouldn’t allow him to minimize what I felt for him. “I knew you. I’ve already proven that. I know you still.”
His eyes widened, but he didn’t argue. I continued. “You were happy to escape the army, get away from your family, lick your wounds where only a bunch of rich kids could see. I know you had nightmares from Iraq, saw things you wish you could erase from your memory. I loved you for that. For caring. For fighting. For being honest about it breaking you.”
I met his eyes. “Then I watched you come back from it. I knew you talked to someone when we moved to Cambridge. You became lighter somehow. You smiled.”
Jon looked back at the damned fork. “I shouldn’t have told you any of that.”
“Bullshit. You taught me that a man could define his own life. That I shouldn’t compromise. I came out because of you. Found my passion because of you. You helped me build a life worth living. How could I not fall in love with you, Jon, even if I thought you’d never love me back?”
Jon sucked in a breath but still didn’t meet my eyes, so I kept talking.
“I’ve been so terrified of scaring you off that I’ve tried my damnedest to put space between us. Even put space between me and every person who’d ask me about you. I’ve pretended to be carefree when I’m dying inside, to be sleeping around when I haven’t fucked anyone in months because none of them are you. But you left anyway. And I realized it’s not a life worth living if I can’t be myself. If I can’t have the man I love. So I’m not sorry that we’re both on this train. I’m not sorry that I get a chance to tell you these things. Because you should know that you have my heart, even if you don’t… if you can’t…”
Jon’s hand tightened around the fork, and I realized I was losing. Panicked, I blurted, “What would it take to convince you my feelings for you are real? That I know what I want?”
Jon looked up at last, and I was taken aback by the honesty in his eyes.
He wasn’t ignoring me. He was terrified.
“You would have to stay with me forever and promise me you would never leave.”
Tears simmered behind my eyes, threatening to fall. Could this be real? Was this happening?
After twenty fucking years, was Jonathan Banks finally going to give me a chance?