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)
“Do you not want to go to dinner?” I ask as I cut myself a piece of pancake.
“I’m okay if you’re okay,” she replies as she looks at me and leans over to kiss me.
“I have to go to the hotel and change my clothes. Nothing says I spent the night banging your sister like wearing the same clothes the day after.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Why don’t you just pack a bag and stay with me?”
I look over at her. “There is nothing I want more than to do that, but I’m not sure.”
“Well,” she says, grabbing her orange juice and drinking it, “I leave in three days.”
I stop mid-chew with the fork in my hand, mid-cut of another piece of pancake. “What are you talking about?”
“I leave in three days for about three or four days,” she says as she grabs a forkful of scrambled eggs, looking over at me.
I put my fork down and finish the piece of pancake in my mouth. “One, where are you going?” I hold up my index finger.
“One.” She smirks at me. “I’m going south.”
“Two, for what?” I hold up another finger.
This time, she holds up two fingers, mimicking me. “Two, I have a photo shoot with someone for their engagement.”
“That takes four days?” I ask, and she tilts her head to the side.
“No, I have a bridal photo shoot that I’m also doing.” She laughs. “All these questions.”
I think about how to ask this next question without sounding needy. I know no matter what I say, it’s going to come out as needy, and to be honest, I don’t really give a shit at this point. “Would it be okay if I came with you?” As soon as I ask the question, I look away from her, not sure I want to be looking at her if she says no.
“You want to come with me?” she asks, and I take a deep inhale and try not to sound too desperate. I think about ways to say it, think about how to word it politically correctly, but in the end, it just comes out the way it is supposed to.
“Pretty much,” I say. “If it’s okay with you.” I stare at her, trying to see what she is thinking, but I don’t know. Or maybe I do know, but I’m just too scared to think about it. I’m pushing her too fast, my head screams out, but then the thought of not being with her for four days kills me, especially since I just got her back fully. “It’s fine,” I say finally. “I’ll wait for you here.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
GABRIELLA
I look over at him as he avoids looking at me, and instead, he picks his fork back up and pushes around the food on his plate. Which I know he does when he’s not sure and nervous. We never went out before in public back in LA. Actually, we went out once, and he spent the whole night looking over his shoulder and doing what he is doing now, so I never pushed him to go out again. I was just happy to be with him, so I was okay with staying in. Besides, I got the real Romeo, the one whose eyes lit up when he laughed. The one who made jokes, even if they were dumb. The one who was carefree. The one I fell in love with. “I’ll wait for you here.” He turns to me and smiles, but it’s the fakest smile I’ve ever seen, which shocks me.
This whole thing has shocked me. “I never thought…” I start to say, and he holds up his hand to stop me from talking.
“It’s fine. It’s not going to be for long,” he reasons, and now I get upset, and it’s making me angry.
“When I booked this, we weren’t even together,” I remind him, my tone going a bit higher.
“Okay, so…” He puts his fork down and then turns to look at me.
“It’s in a little town.” I try to find the words to fight my side of it, even though there really isn’t anything to argue.
“Do you not want me to come?” he asks, and my stomach rises to my throat in a full softball-sized lump before it drops to the pit of my stomach.
“I want you to come,” I say honestly. “In my defense, we were not…” I open my hand and do a circle. “This.” Trying not to point out what we are because it might make me sound needy.
“You mean we weren’t dating,” he fills in the words for me. “I wasn’t your boyfriend.”
“Yeah, that,” I say, pointing at him. I don’t know why I’m afraid to say the words. He chuckles, and I hope this awkward conversation goes away. “I just think you might be bored.”
“Well, how about you let me worry about that,” he suggests, and I smile at him. Of course he would handle this smoothly and calmly, unlike me, who is nervous and not sure of anything. He puts his hand on mine, and I feel his heat. “Why don’t we clean up, and then we can head back to my hotel and I can grab a bag.”