Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“I bet you did,” he murmurs, leans back again. “Do you enjoying your work?”
“Is this where I’m supposed to say I have a really great boss?”
He transfers his weight onto one palm to scratch his cheek, making the boat rock the tiniest bit. “That’s a given, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. You were a hard-ass in the beginning.” And I kind of loved it. I loved how he made me work for him, and though in some ways I feel like it was a role I’d stepped in to, I feel like, being with him, has made me that girl.
“And you were relentless.” His head moves from side to side as though he can’t quite believe he gave in.
“I’ve never wanted anything the way I wanted you.” Want you still.
“I know the feeling.” His expression turns soft, and my heart flutters in my chest. Despite being out in the open, maybe unreachable in this small body of water, the moment feels intimate, the air between us suddenly heavy and expectant.
As those flutters turn to panicked wings beating in my chest, I turn my head. “Whit.” Please don’t. Please don’t make me deny this because I don’t think I can. A sudden gust of wind whips the hair out of my face, and I turn my head to slide it away. Like a sign from above, I notice a woman at the side of the lake. “Whit, is that your mom?”
35
WHIT
It’s not like I was going to propose, but I was about to suggest she stay. It’s fine, though. There will be other opportunities. And that morning, I got to go home freezing cold, covered in pond scum, and soaked to the bone, to find that Mimi ardently admired my wet shirt Mr. Darcy moment. She’d helped me strip out of my wet things, led me to the shower, and then I wasn’t cold anymore.
It’s all good and that things devolve—evolve?—into sex frequently is just a symptom of how much we’re into each other. I see the ways she looks at me when she thinks I’m not looking. When she’s curled on the sofa watching some ridiculous makeover program or watching a movie. I know there’s more to this than just sex. We get along well, even if she has dubious viewing tastes. Her favorite movie?
She likes me. She always has. And I’ve always said those two factors alone have to be enough to take a chance on us.
I have other plans up my sleeve, including a private ride on the London Eye booked for next week. That’s thirty whole minutes by ourselves where, because of CCTV, there won’t be any hanky-panky. I’m sure I could get them to make it malfunction for our ride, but my plans might be better served if I used my mouth for something other than pleasure during that time.
I have other outings and experiences in mind for us because I want her to have fun. But more than that, I want her to start to see herself living here. Being here. With me. I think that was the point of this morning’s expedition, no matter how idiotic the idea seems right now.
“Hello, darlings!” My mother waves manically from the boat ramp as I use one oar to maneuver the boat to the edge of the ramp. What the fuck is she doing here? “What a coincidence!” The rowboat attendant barely has time to tie up the boat before Polly crowds him like a dog eager to hump a visitor's leg.
“Oops!” Releasing she’s in the way, she steps aside, and the bloke holds out his hand to help Mimi out. “Fancy seeing you two here,” Polly announces.
“Yeah, fancy.” I don’t know where she gets her intel from, but that gleam in her eye isn’t exactly subtle. I’d very briefly considered calling her to get her on side this week. I’d thought about confessing my feelings and plans for Mimi, before abandoning the thought. She’d be all for it, snapping at the chance of me settling down like a tourist eating crocodile but she’d probably do more harm than good. She’s not exactly known for her subtlety, my mother.
“So, come on then.” She practically bounces on the spot. “What’s brought you here? What’s the occasion?”
Calm down, Polly. We’re nowhere near the proposal stage yet. Like I’d row Mimi out on The Serpentine to ask her to marry me anyway. It’s so weird how just thinking that doesn’t freak me out—not even a little.
“The occasion was the boat ride itself,” I mutter as Polly’s attention bounces between Mimi and me. “It just seemed like the day for it. Cheers,” I add as the attendant hands me my forgotten suit jacket. “Maybe we’re celebrating the arrival of spring.” I hook my forefinger in the collar and sling it over my shoulder conscious of looking like a menswear catalog model. “What are you doing here?”