Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
He caresses my cheek and then reels me into his embrace. “Always, baby,” he murmurs in my hair.
Epilogue
Jenny
Six months later
A stretch of sunlight spills across my face as I roll over. A cool breeze drifts through the billowing white curtains. The French doors are open. He’s awake.
Groaning, I sit up straight and rub the tiredness out of my eyes. The backs of my legs rest on the edge of the bed, and in the air I smell something sweet.
And then salty.
A smile sweeps across my lips as I stand and walk towards the vanity. The fingers of my left hand wrap around the edge of the chair in front of it. I look at the picture of Mitchell and me hanging in the crease, between the mirror and the painted wood.
I do what I always do when I see it. Kissing two fingers and then placing it on the photograph.
“I think today is going to be a good day, Mitch.” I fluff my hair before walking to the closet and grabbing a robe. I’m practically naked. Only my panties linger. I don’t know when I put them back on last night, but there is one thing I do know.
I can’t keep wrestling my boyfriend into sex. He always wins.
I shower up quickly and then get dressed in a pair of shorts and a camisole. I slide into my favorite blue and grey floral kimono and then walk down the stairs of our new home.
We live right on Laguna Beach—a nice, two-story home with a breathtaking view from our bedroom and my music room.
When I get down to the dining room, I laugh out loud.
Drake is at the end of the table with a black apron on that says: Who Says Fighters Can’t Cook?
As he places all of the food down, I catch his attention and he straightens his back, smiling.
“You’re up early.”
“So are you.” I walk towards him. “What is all this?”
“All for you, baby.” He plants a kiss on my forehead when he passes by me. “I know I interrupted your studio session last night, so I’m making up for it now. Tonight, I won’t disturb you. I just really needed some of you.”
“You always interrupt me when I’m smack dab in the middle of a good song.” I laugh.
“We had fun last night. I regret nothing.” He flicks his wrist. “But we do have to eat early because I have plans and I want you to tag along with me.”
“Plans?” I ask, picking up a biscuit. “What are they?”
“I have to meet Oscar within the next hour.”
“For what?”
“Local interview. But guess what?”
“What?”
“Kylie will be with him.” He smirks.
I shriek. “Really?!”
He nods, and I hook my arms around his neck. I haven’t seen Kylie since Vegas. She’s been working in New York with a new job. It’s high profile voice acting. It’s her thing, and I don’t blame her for not wanting to miss any days. She needs to build a reputation.
“Why didn’t she tell me she was coming?” I ask, planting a hand on my hips.
“Because it was meant to be a surprise.”
I give him an evil-eyed glared. “Soo… why did you just ruin it?”
“Because I don’t think any of us are up for the squealing and giggling—oh, and lets not forget the happy tears.” He wiggles his eyebrows and I nip the tip of his nose with my teeth. He laughs, squeezing me tighter in his arms.
“Well, just for that,” I say, sitting down as he does. “I’m doubling up on the squeals.”
He picks up a piece of bacon, his upper lip peeling back to reveal those beautiful teeth. “You just wouldn’t be the Snoop I know if you don’t.”
* * *
The ride to the magazine company in San Diego doesn’t take too long. It’s only about an hour-and-twenty-minute ride, but knowing my best friend will be waiting there leaves me no reason to be patient.
“I’m so excited to see her.” I clutch Drake’s hand as he helps me out of the car. There is a tall building in front of us, but he leads the way to a restaurant right beside it instead.
I frown a bit. “Are you hungry again?”
“Not really.” He side-eyes me.
“Then why are we going to this restaurant?”
“I’m meeting someone here.”
He releases my hand to open the door. I look up at him warily before walking inside. It’s a nice restaurant. Mediterranean, I can tell.
I see some of the chefs cooking behind the counter. Thick, white cylinders are planted throughout the room in columns, almost like a ballroom. There are only a few people here, all eating. All elegant.
“This way,” Drake says, walking past me. He walks down a long corridor and I stay on his heels.
“This better be a shortcut,” I hiss at his back.
He glances over his shoulder, still wearing that damn smirk. My heels click across the marble. I try hard to keep up with him. His strides are much longer than mine, and in these heels, I can’t walk too fast. They are six inches tall. I might end up spraining an ankle if I overdo it.