Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Ah. Shit.” His eyes closed for a moment. “You’re probably not going to believe me, but I had completely forgotten she kissed me. That’s how little it meant to me.” He closed the gap between us. “Emily, do you know how many women I’ve kissed? Not a single one has meant a damn thing in, God, I don’t know how long—years—except our kiss.”
How the hell was I supposed to stay mad after he said that?
I cracked a smile.
He looked relieved. “I got food for us.”
For the first time, I noticed the spread behind him. “Middle Eastern? How did you manage that this late? Catering had Italian tonight.”
“I know you like it, so I asked Mario to have it delivered.”
“That was very thoughtful of you.”
“Will you stay? I won’t lay a hand—or mouth—on you, I promise. Just eating. Food.” He winked. “Eating food. Nothing else. Promise.”
A few minutes later, I’d forgotten all about the anxiety from earlier. Eating Middle Eastern food late at night while lounging with Tristan had become my happy place. It was our thing. This time we ate on the spare bed. He always requested a room with two beds, one for eating on and one for sleeping. Tristan sat up against the headboard while I kept a safe distance at the foot of the bed.
As we finished our meal, he smiled. “I haven’t interrogated you in a while. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”
I wiped my mouth. “Depends on what they are.”
“There’s a lot I still don’t know about you. And my goal in life is to eventually know everything there is about Emily Applewood. But due to time constraints, acquiring that information has to come in phases.” He grinned.
I swallowed, already feeling guilty for what I wouldn’t be admitting. “Okay…”
“Do you believe in God?” He licked the corner of his mouth. “I mean, we’ve talked about your negative feelings toward religion. But we didn’t dive too deeply into whether you feel like there’s a higher power.”
I tried not to overthink my answer. “I believe in…something. But I don’t know that I trust in God the way I should. When you lose someone you care about, it makes you wonder if anyone is looking out for you or the people you love.”
He nodded. “Stuff like that does make it hard to believe. I try to tell myself there are things we don’t understand, that maybe some people have a certain purpose on this Earth, and their time is limited from the beginning—they aren’t taken away, but maybe they agreed to that expiration date as part of their plan.”
“So what would Jacob’s mission have been if he died before ever really getting to live, never getting to see his dreams come true?” I challenged. “Make it make sense.”
Tristan shook his head. “I don’t have an answer, beautiful. But perhaps someone’s purpose is not to achieve anything grand in life, but rather to touch the people around them. To leave an impression on this Earth. Some people change you just by having known them. I know that’s kind of woo-woo and I sound like Ronan right now, but I have to think like that to accept tragedy.”
“Have you ever lost someone?” I asked.
“You mean to death?”
“Yeah.”
“No. So I probably have no right even talking about this shit. You’re so much stronger than I am after what you’ve been through. You’re so freaking young, but you’ve experienced much more.”
“I’m not that young.”
“Too young to be messing around with a nearly washed-up musician who’s fifteen years older.”
“You’re far from washed up. And you sounded amazing tonight, by the way.”
“See? I wasn’t even gonna ask, because I didn’t want you to think that’s why I called you, because it isn’t. But thank you for letting me know.”
“You need to rest your voice more often. It does you good.”
Tristan leaned back against the headboard and smirked. “Is that your excuse to leave?”
“I’m not in any rush,” I admitted.
“Good, because I’m nowhere done with you.”
“In what way?” I swallowed.
“Not done asking questions.” He winked. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Applewood.”
I tilted my head. “What else do you want to know?”
“What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done?” he asked.
Agreeing to come on this tour. I chose the second scariest thing.
“Probably facing Henry’s kids after the…accident. Knowing they hated me for causing his death but looking them in the eyes anyway and apologizing for what happened.”
“I can’t imagine how tough that was,” he said softly.
“There wasn’t anything I could say that would make them feel better, so I didn’t try. And sorry didn’t seem to cut it. It was just one meeting, initiated by me so I could sleep better at night. But it was a horrible experience.”
“You didn’t owe them an apology, given the circumstances.”
“I felt I did, even though what happened wasn’t intentional.” Starting to sweat, I needed to take the attention off of me. “My turn to ask a question.”