Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
And we damn sure never thought that finding it would somehow change us, impact us so deeply.
I couldn't speak for Christopher, of course. For all I knew, he was back to his normal life, bedding random women, never letting them into his life, slowly burying the memory of me under a perfumed parade of other bodies.
But, for me, there was no denying it.
I was changed.
Possibly forever.
In big ways, but small ones, as well.
I found part of myself I didn't know I had been missing or had tried so hard to bury. And now that they were recovered, I didn't want to lose them again, to bury them again. I wanted to sit them down over coffee and apologize for denying them. I wanted to invite them into my life.
I wanted to cook meals for loved ones.
I wanted to slow down with work a little.
I wanted to have love and maybe even have babies.
I wanted a life.
I had somehow managed to brainwash myself for years that what I had was a life. It was busy and hectic and interesting and challenging. And all those things added up to a distant sort of accomplishment, contentment.
But it wasn't happiness.
It wasn't fulfillment.
There was nothing wrong with having your career be a priority, but unless you were curing cancer or eradicating infectious diseases that might wipe out half our population, I was starting to think it was unhealthy for work to be your everything.
Especially for people like me.
In careers like mine.
I wasn't stupid. My job had an expiration date. I wasn't going to be able to do it until social security kicked in when I was, what, sixty-seven. I would be forced to retire well before then.
And then what?
No, really, and then what?
What would I have?
Who would I have?
Friends, sure.
But they had their own lives, their own families. They would only be around so much. They would never be able to fill the long waking hours.
Something had to change in my life.
I had already begun to change.
I wanted the things I had so long thought weren't for me.
A slower life.
Deeper roots.
Family.
Kids.
Christopher.
My heart threw that last one in there.
And as irrational as it was, I couldn't deny that it was true.
I wanted him.
I wanted those things with him.
Even if it wasn't possible.
The ache for it was something all-consuming at times, a black hole with a plan to suck everything into its depths.
"Mills..." Smith's voice called what felt like a lifetime later, his tone cautious, sad, making me realize the pillow hadn't been doing as good a job as I thought in keeping the sobs and the sniffling quiet.
"I'm fine," I objected, taking a deep breath.
"You're not fine," he objected, making the bed depress as he sat down on the edge. "But I figure you're not going to talk to me about it."
"I was starting to love him," I admitted, finding it was easier to open up when you had your face stuffed in a pillow. "I know Quin thinks I have Stockholm or something, but it's not that. It was real."
There was a humorless chuckle as his hand slapped my thigh. "Leave it to you to fall for a crime lord, huh?" he asked, making a small smile tug at my lips, finding comfort in his teasing. "Why don't you call him?" he suggested.
I hated to admit that I didn't even have his number, that I might have actually been weak enough to call him if I did.
"It's pointless," I said instead. "He lives in Greece," I added, shaking my head.
"I heard he actually has dual citizenship, but, yes, he does live there. You like Greece."
"I like it here too."
"Maybe he would too."
"I know you're trying to be a good friend, but you are making it sound like it is possible. It just... isn't," I told him, folding upward, sighing out my breath.
His gaze moved to my face, likely taking in the puffy eyes, the tear-stained cheeks; so unlike me, but I couldn't seem to muster the fuck to give about it.
"Think a lot of us have realized that things we thought were impossible actually aren't."
"You and Jenny are a unique story," I insisted.
"Yeah? And Quin and Aven? Gunner and Sloane? Kai and Jules? Lincoln and Gemma? Ranger and Meadow? We are all just, what, more unique? Than you with a Greek crime lord?"
"You guys all at least lived in the same country from the get-go," I insisted, rolling my eyes.
"That's true," he agreed, moving to stand. "I'm just saying, shit like distance? That's superficial. If that is the only obstacle, it's not one that should even trip you up."
"You've seen me try to exercise, right?" I shot back, making him turn back, big, goofy smile on his usually very serious face.
"You know what, you're right. We need to start you small. Like a doggie obedience course, or something."