Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 106001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Like a secret?
But of course it’s not the leaving early that’s the problem—Bridger has a breakfast meeting. I do understand that.
It’s that we only exist behind closed doors.
With my phone and lip gloss in hand, I go to leave. Bridger’s right behind me, walking me to the door where his carry-on waits, packed and ready.
Perhaps sensing my mood, he reaches for my hand. “I’m really sorry about last night,” he says.
That nearly knocks me from my funk. With that gesture, my heart turns a little squishy. We did try last night. Sure, we failed, but at least we tried.
We haven’t talked much about what happened at the theater. Or about how to regroup. I think we both feel foolish for thinking we could subtly market our romance to my dad.
“It’s not your fault,” I say gently. I don’t want him to worry about me or us when he’s in Paris. “Don’t think twice about it.”
“We’ll figure it out, Harlow,” he says, a touch of desperation in his voice. “I promise. We’ll come up with a real plan. I land…” He stops to do the time-zone math, “…late tonight our time, but tomorrow morning Paris time. And we can—”
I shut him up with a quick kiss. “Bridger, you have a show to deal with. The time zones and work and everything will be hard.” I thread my fingers through his. “We’ll deal with it when you return. You don’t need to worry about this or me.”
Narrowing his eyes, he growls at me, clearly disliking my assessment, but perhaps knowing I’m right. He holds my face. “I like worrying about you, Harlow. You’re worth worrying about.”
I smile faintly. “Worry about work. We won’t figure this out in Paris anyway. It’s going to be hard,” I add heavily. Then I admit the truth of last night. “It was silly to think it would be easy.”
His expression turns serious. “I know. As soon as I return, we’ll figure out how to tell him. No testing the waters. No subliminal messaging. Just the truth. No matter how hard it is,” he says, strong and certain, but underneath his tough exterior, his no-nonsense tone, I hear fear and uncertainty.
Understandable.
“Of course.”
He gives me a quick kiss, like he’s stealing it. Like we’re not going to see each other again. “When I get back, then? Maybe even before the gala. That day?”
“Sure,” I say, wanting to speed up time to Friday. Till we can roll up our sleeves and figure this out.
“I’ve been thinking too about what’s next—”
He’s interrupted by his phone barking. After he grabs it from his pocket, his blue eyes light up. Like the caller is a Christmas gift. I glance down at the screen. David Fontaine flashes across it. It might as well be a billboard.
“Take it, take it!” I urge, excited for him.
Immediately, he answers. “Hey there, David. Can you hold on just one second? I have to say goodbye to someone.”
I wince inside. I’m only someone. I get this. I know why. But I want to be Harlow. I want to be his girlfriend. I want to be the one he declares in public.
Be patient. This was never supposed to be easy.
After he mutes the phone, he leans in, kisses my cheek. “I love you,” he tells me, and love whooshes down my body all the way to my toes.
Why then do I feel so unsteady? Just because I want this kiss on the street? At a restaurant? In the park? In a museum? Outside? Here, there, everywhere?
Settle down. Settle all the way down.
“I love you,” I say. “I’ll see you Friday at the gala.”
“I can’t wait.”
But we have to.
Now isn’t the time to make a blueprint for telling my dad we’re together. For what we’ll say. How we will say it. Besides, I finally realize that Bridger always faced the bigger obstacle.
I’d thought I did. For the longest time, I’d thought my obstacle was huge. Bridger was my obstacle.
Now I’m here with him, and he was worth the chase. This love was worth the pursuit.
I still don’t have any idea how my father will handle the news that I’m in love with him. But if I could withstand losing my mother, I could handle losing him.
Though I think, in my heart, I know my father won’t disown me.
It’s not in his nature.
My heart aches for the man I’m in love with. There’s no way he can escape without major collateral damage.
But now’s not the time to warn him. I wave goodbye since he needs to focus on his phone call.
Later, he texts me that he’s at the airport, the call was promising, and that he’ll miss me. But it feels strange writing back knowing that he’s with my dad, Isla, and Mia, boarding a flight, so I send a quick Miss you too, and leave it at that.