Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Dad,” I say.
“Don’t Dad me, Gabriella,” he warns, and I can hear the worry in his voice. “You aren’t just dating anyone. You are apparently dating Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor.”
I roll my eyes at that. “Stop reading the tabloids, Dad.”
“I didn’t even read the tabloids. That is what Dylan told me.” I groan.
“Dad, we are a man and a woman who want to get to know each other. Sadly, the man I want to get to know comes with paparazzi.”
“But,” he says, “this is just—”
“It’s not normal, that is for sure,” I cut him off, “but when do we do things that are normal?”
“This is true,” he huffs. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“What if I hurt him?” I ask the question.
“Then you’ll be the woman who destroyed Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor.” He laughs. “I just want you to be okay.”
“I’m okay, Dad,” I answer him honestly, “and the minute I’m not, I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you,” he replies, and I can see the smile on his face in my head. “Now I have to go and talk your brother off the ledge.”
“Oh, dear God,” I say, huffing. “I’ll call him in a bit,” I tell him and hang up the phone, putting the car in park.
TWENTY-TWO
ROMEO
I flick the channels of the television, not even paying attention to what is on the screen, but knowing if I turn it off, it’ll just make me crazier. My phone rings and my heart speeds up thinking it might be her, but then looking down I see it’s my father. I press the connect button. “Hello.”
“Well, if it isn’t my son who is all over the internet,” he says and my stomach burns.
“The one and only.” I pretend I’m not bothered, and, to be honest, I’m not. I don’t give a shit that they took our picture. They could have followed us all day long and taken a million pictures, and I wouldn’t care because I was with her.
“How’re you doing?” he asks, noticing the tone of my voice.
“Not sure,” I admit to him. “Gabriella sort of freaked out.”
“It’s only normal.” He takes her side right away. “It’s a strange world to be in.” I don’t say anything. “She’s from hockey royalty.” He laughs. “Isn’t that a plot twist?”
I laugh when he says that. “Yeah, to be honest, I didn’t really know how known her family was. It never really came up.” Even saying it, I sound like a douchebag. Who doesn’t get to know the girl’s family he’s with? The old me, that is who.
The knock fills the room, and I sit up, thinking I might have imagined it. I get up anyway and walk over to the door, pulling it open and seeing her standing there. “Hi,” she says softly, holding up her hand. She is wearing black jeans with a gray hooded sweater. A black leather jacket is in her hands and her white sneakers make her look sporty but also sexy as hell.
“Dad, I've got to go,” I say to the phone and disconnect it without hearing him say anything else. “He,” is the only thing that comes out of my mouth because I have no idea what to do or say. She came to me is the only thing running through my head. I was going to give her the night and then go to her, but her coming here makes everything I’ve been doing worth it.
“You told Abigail about us?” she asks, and then I see her fidgeting with her fingers, so I know she’s nervous.
“Come in,” I invite her, moving to the side as she walks in and goes to the living room. I close my eyes as I shut the door.
“You told her about us?” she asks again.
“I did,” I admit to her.
“I didn’t tell her anything,” she says as I walk into the living room, standing in front of her. The coffee table is in the middle of the room between us.
“I sort of got that from the shock on her face when I told her about us,” I tell her, wondering if she is pissed that I told her sister about us.
“Why?” she asks the loaded question Abigail also asked me when I told her about us.
I tell her the same thing I told Abigail. “Because I have to take accountability for what I did.” She hangs her head. “For my actions.”
“My mother called me,” she shares, and her voice quivers.
“I’m so, so sorry, Gabriella,” I tell her. “I know I don’t care that they take my picture, but I didn’t think about you.”
“I told my mother about us,” she says, and I’m about to take a step to her, but I stop. Something in her voice tells me she isn’t done. “She asked me if I could forgive you.” The nerves start to fill my body. “She also said that if I couldn’t forgive you, I should let you go because it wasn’t fair to you.”