Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I looked away from Bear and over to Remy for the first time. He had on a gray Henley T-shirt, his signature low-slung jeans with a hole in the knee, sneakers, and that fucking hat. I hated that hat. It was his way of hiding. “Thank you for taking care of Bear. I guess you’re all right.” I winked.
I walked over to him, and Remy leaned into me, head on my shoulder. I ran my hands up and down his arms. “We good?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t know why I’m freaking the hell out. I’m acting like I’ve never met someone new before or been in public. I’m a fucking musician, for Christ’s sake. And hell, Brit drags me around with her friends often enough.”
“Anxiety doesn’t play by rules. It doesn’t make sense. It just is. We’re good, and if you need to step out at any time, go to my bedroom. No one here will say anything. I promise you.”
“I’m sorry I’m like this. It’s even worse than it used to be. You shouldn’t have to deal with my shit.”
“Hey.” I stepped back so he looked at me. “I know who you are. I’ve always known who you are. I’m where I want to be.”
He smiled. “What does a lawyer wear to court?”
“What?” I asked.
“A lawsuit. Get it? Law suit?”
I grinned. His stupid jokes were my favorite. “You’re an idiot.”
I went to walk away, but Remy held my arm. “I want them to like me, ya know? Because you care about them, and if we’re gonna be…somethin’…” He shrugged. “I just want them to like me.”
I wasn’t sure there was anyone in the world sweeter than Remington Monroe. “They will. I know it.”
He nodded, pressed a quick kiss to my lips, then bounced on the balls of his feet like he was getting ready for a boxing match. “Okay, let’s do this.”
“You fucking dork,” I teased with a snicker.
“Put me in, Coach. I got this. Isn’t that what sporty people say?”
“Did I mention you’re a dork? Maybe you should stick with the dorky jokes.”
“You were a football guy in high school. Am I playing the part well?”
It was a distraction, but a fun one. Remy could be silly when he was able to let go. “Mmm. I think you’re the best tight end I’ve ever played with.”
He dropped his head back and laughed. A genuine, happy laugh he didn’t give very often, and damned if I didn’t love when it was directed at me.
“I pinned myself as a fantastic wide receiver.”
“That too, Mr. Sexual Innuendo.”
“You started it,” he replied, then sobered. “Thank you…for being you. I’m actually a little excited about today, and it’s different. I’m worried because…because it means more.”
My heart did this tumble dive, right back to where it had been all those years ago, where it likely always was. It just climbed out every once in a while to fool me.
I was so fucking gone when it came to Remington Monroe.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Remington
Law dragged me into the kitchen. “Okay, so I’m putting you on chopping duty. We need the tomatoes and onions cut up for the burgers, and then we need to peel the lettuce from the head—because heads of lettuce are always better, Rem—but in nice-sized pieces so they fit on the burgers well. Wash your hands.”
“Yes, sir,” I said playfully. He was keeping me busy to distract me, and I appreciated it. I meant what I said about the significance of this. I wanted Law’s friends to like me. I wanted to fit in with them more than I could say. When we were younger, I would never have been able to blend in well with the people he hung out with. I always knew I was…unique, and that it would be awkward. I couldn’t be brash and party like they had been, but I hoped it would be different now. I needed to not fuck something up between us. I’d taken my anxiety med before I came over and had another pill with me that I hoped I wouldn’t need.
We washed our hands, and Law got the vegetables from the fridge. He handed me a cutting board and knife. I washed the vegetables and began cutting them as he started to shuck the corn on the cob.
“We’ll do this on the grill too. It’s fucking amazing that way.”
I enjoyed seeing him in his element this way. All we’d had before were hotel rooms, because he’d been in the dorms. Then, when he got his own place, I would never go there. Christ, it used to piss him off so much—hurt him too, I was certain—but it was my way of keeping the distance. Part of me had always known it would end.
He grabbed foil, put butter inside, then wrapped the corn, just as I started the lettuce.