Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Renn rests his chin on the top of my head. “That had to be hard.”
“It was hard for her, I’m sure. And the older I get, the more I fear being in that same boat. Lonely. I will be a single mother because I never found a guy who I thought was worth building a life with, and I wouldn’t settle for less.”
His hands run up and down my arms.
I smile softly—not sadly, but not happily, either. I’m in an uncertain space between both emotions. I’m incredibly happy and content at this moment, but I know this bubble of ease is so very temporary.
I sigh.
What is one to do in this situation? Do you lean into the happy and enjoy all life has to offer? Or do you protect yourself from the heartbreak that’s inevitably right around the corner?
We’re treading carefully between flings and feelings. “I’ve just never found myself in a situation where I thought—what if?” But I know forever is out of the question.
I blow out a breath and study the ink etched into his skin. Each piece is deliberate—an intentional piece of artwork. They’re a story that I’d love to know more about.
“Tell me about your tattoos,” I say, tracing a line up his arm.
He pulls his left arm away from me and stretches it before us. Water drips off his fingers and into the tub.
“I got most of them when I was younger,” he says. “Let’s see … Okay, this one.” He points at a patch of skin in the middle of his forearm. “The seven is for my position on the pitch. I’m the openside flanker.”
“That’s a forward, right?”
“Yeah. Very good.”
“I’ve learned a little over the years.”
He chuckles. “The pineapple was a bet that went terribly wrong one New Year’s Eve. The B is for Brewer. All my brothers have it somewhere on their body.” He twists his wrist. “This is the outline of Australia, obviously, with a ball inside it. This one says mom—self-explanatory.”
My heart warms at the sight of the small ode to his mother just below the crook of his arm.
“What about you?” he asks, returning his arm around me. “I didn’t see any tattoos on your hot little body.”
“That’s because I don’t have any. I’ve always wanted one. I’ve even looked at designs to see what I would get, but I haven’t gone through with it.”
“Why?”
“I’m scared I won’t want it forever, and I’ll be stuck with it.”
“That’s how I feel about Brock,” he says, chuckling. “I befriended him, but now I don’t want him forever, and I’m stuck with him.”
I smile, taking a handful of water and dropping it on my chest. “Have you heard from him since we left Vegas?”
“No. Have you had a chance to call him yet?”
I shake my head. “Something is going on with Brock, I think. Ella said they aren’t talking either. It’s not like him to just shut down like this. I’m starting to get worried.”
He hums. I don’t know what that means, so I leave it.
We sit quietly. The peace is only broken by the occasional ripple of the water. The room is warm, the moonlight adding a touch of ambiance to the low-lit room. It’s lovely and romantic … and I’m sitting here with Renn.
“There’s a difference between flings, feelings, and forever.”
Ella’s words echo through my mind, reminding me once again to keep a solid perspective on what’s transpiring. Things might be amazing and working out better than I ever imagined. But we are in a bubble, isolated from the real world that will be ready to attack us once we return home.
Renn pulls me against him, nestling his head against mine. My chest fills with a warmth that I’m afraid to name.
“When do you think we should go back home?” I ask, hesitation in my voice. I don’t want to go back. I want to stay cocooned in our little beach bubble for as long as possible.
He sighs. “I talked to the Royals today while you napped. They want a meeting with me as soon as I get back. They’re pushing for midweek.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. They heard the news, obviously, and said they have concerns. I told them I married the only woman I could ever love and was happy, but I don’t think they bought it.”
I still.
“I told them I’d get back with them tomorrow and let them know if I could return that quickly,” he says. “I feel like a dick cutting your honeymoon short.”
My spirits fall. Don’t be disappointed. Keep a healthy perspective. “Yeah, well, this isn’t a real honeymoon anyway, remember?”
He clears his throat, shifting his weight again. “Bianca told me that the headlines aren’t as bad as we feared. Naturally, there are some nasty ones, but she thinks our statement changed the narrative. She suggested we post something on our Social accounts to bolster our stance. I’m sure Frances would agree with that if I answered her calls.”