Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
It was absolutely beautiful.
“Oh, baby. I am begging you to never sell this place,” I said, wheeling my suitcase to rest against the wall. I unzipped my blue parka and shrugged out of it, then walked around the loft, pulling down my sweater and straightening my hair. The place wasn’t homey, by any stretch of the imagination. I couldn’t imagine living here full time; it would feel like living in an art museum. It was like a little oasis: we were away from our jobs, away from friends and family—not that we didn’t love our friends and family—and truly alone together, out of our usual element. I wished we had more time to spend together in it.
Neil was visibly taken aback. I usually never expressed an opinion on what he should do with his money or properties. At least, if it didn’t concern me. He wanted to retire at his country estate in England, for example, and while I thought it reminded me a little too much of a horror movie version of Downton Abbey, I wasn’t about to ask him to revise his plans. I’d just asked that he close the house to tourists when that time came, and warned that if ever an antique doll turned its head to look at me, I would burn the entire place to the ground.
But I didn’t usually weigh in on this stuff. As much as I wanted to protest that I wanted to stand on my own two feet and be independent and a full partner in our relationship, where money was concerned I was kind of along for the ride, because my income didn’t match our lifestyle. I still had a twinge of guilt every time I used his money to go shopping, or when he bought me an occasional present. I wasn’t going to say, “Hey, I know you pay for most of my clothes, my food, the roof over my head, and you take me on trips all over the world, but let me tell you how to make major financial decisions.”
This time, though, I totally was, and it had come as a shock to him. Not an entirely unwelcome one, I saw from his hesitant smile. “You really like it that much?”
“I do. This place could be our little escape. We could fly out here on weekends or something.” The thought of getting away from New York—or wherever we ended up living—for the sole purpose of being alone together—made my heart flutter. “You’re always saying that your money makes our lives more flexible.”
“I’m strangely touched by the fact that you’re asking me to keep a very expensive home just because you think it’s pretty,” he teased.
“Don’t pull that misogynist sugar daddy shit on me,” I warned him with a laugh. “Just admit it, you’re thrilled that I’m telling you what to do, for a change.”
It was late. Neil started the gas fireplace and I headed to the ultramodern master bath to take a quick shower. Three tiers of natural wood decking surrounded the sinfully deep, two-person rectangular Jacuzzi tub. A plant with tall green shoots grew happily from a silver oval urn on the floor. I lifted an eyebrow at the square toilet and bidet.
Seriously, they were square.
I would deal with that mind fuck at a later time, I decided, plopping my beauty bag down on the counter beside the square vessel sink. I fished out my shampoo and soap and put them in the shower—a polished concrete and glass room with iridescent black tiles—and fiddled with the taps. Then I went back to the sink to brush my teeth. When I rinsed, I smiled at myself, flashing my braces-straight whites. I was going to look so good on television.
If you have the job, I reminded myself, puncturing my vanity bubble. I was trying not to get my hopes up, but I really, really wanted the gig with Wake Up! America. I knew it was an extreme long-shot; I’d only gotten the interview because of strings that India Vaughn had pulled with her beauty journalism clout. A producer on Wake Up! America had once worked as an intern under India, and would do anything for her, including granting an audition for a job I would have normally had no chance in hell of getting.
But still, I wanted to hope. Believing something would happen was supposed to make it happen, right? At least, that’s what The Secret had said. I tilted my head back and forth, imagining how poised I would be on camera. Then I snapped myself out of it and got into the shower.
* * * *
After a few hours in bed—I had to force myself to sleep after my epic pass-out on the plane—Neil and I got up and had a light breakfast. We’d made out a grocery list to cover our three-day stay in the country, and the people who’d opened the house had stocked the fridge and cupboards.