Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
His silver Porsche purrs like a kitten as it pulls down the street, and I bounce up and down on the spot.
“Ahhhhhh.”
Henley carries out a bottle of champagne and places it on the table in front of us.
“Wow, pulling out the big stuff.” Blake smiles. “Must have been some honeymoon. Where are these photos?”
Juliet and Henley have called us over for celebratory afternoon drinks.
“Well . . .” Henley smiles proudly as he puts his arm around Juliet. “We have some exciting news.”
Antony, Chloe, Blake, and I exchange looks . . . What’s this about?
Henley gestures to Juliet. “You go.”
“No, you go.” She smiles shyly.
“All right, then . . . Juliet’s pregnant.” Henley rises onto his toes, unable to contain his excitement. “And we couldn’t be happier. A little James is on the way.”
Oh . . .
The room erupts into laughter, and everyone jumps from their seat to hug the two expectant parents.
“I can’t believe this,” I whisper to Juliet. “I didn’t think you were even trying until later this year.”
Juliet shrugs. “Neither did we, but somebody has stepped in and gifted us with a baby.”
“Oh, I’m so excited.” I smile. “What a beautiful wedding present.” I put my hand down to her stomach. “So how far along are you?”
“Seven weeks. We were going to wait until the twelve-week mark to tell you all, but we just couldn’t.”
“And why should you? We want to celebrate this as well.” Blake laughs as he pulls her into a hug. “I’m so happy for you. Congratulations.”
“A little baby on Kingston Lane,” I whisper in awe.
“Now the street really is perfect.” Blake pulls Henley into a hug. “Well done, man. Well done.”
“Hucow.” Antony sneezes. “Hucow.” He sneezes again.
Huh?
Blake and Henley burst out laughing at something.
“What’s so funny?”
“The way he sneezes. He’s a fucking idiot.”
I walk into the staff room and take a seat at a table on my own. I don’t feel like small talking today. I have bigger things on my mind. Blake Grayson in all his glory is coming over tonight, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous.
What happens if it isn’t everything we both think it’s going to be?
What if the sex doesn’t live up to expectations?
I mean, it might not—just because our foreplay is off the hook doesn’t mean the sex will be.
From deep down in my psyche, an insecurity is lurking in the darkness. Blake has slept with some of the most beautiful women in the world, and I’m . . . well, I’m just me.
Although I look after myself, I’m definitely no supermodel. I have stretch marks and a bit of cellulite and curves where they have no right being.
I know it’s my personality Blake is in lust with, but what if my body lets down the party?
Realistically, moving forward, how long could he be with someone that he doesn’t find attractive? I close my eyes in disgust with my wayward thoughts. Stop it, you fool.
It’s Blake.
He knows my body better than anyone. He sleeps beside me all the time.
Cut it out, you fool.
If there’s one thing I know about me beginning to date again, it’s that I need to step up and be brave. I can’t bring my baggage into this, or else we’re doomed before we even begin.
I think back to the other night when I freaked out and how beautiful and patient Blake was. He was prepared to shower alone so that I could calm down. I mean, in the end, he didn’t have to, and I joined him. But I know that if I didn’t go into that bathroom, he would have done whatever it took to be able to stay.
And it means a lot.
The beauty of Blake is that he knows my history . . . the downside is that I know his.
I pull out my phone.
Six missed calls.
John.
Fuck.
Leave me alone already.
Now that I have the house, I want nothing to do with him ever again. The phone rings in my hand. It’s him. Of course it is. He knows I’m on break at this time of the day. I need to set him straight.
“Hello,” I snap.
“Hi, Rebecca,” he says all happy-like.
“Why are you calling me? Has your Barbie collection become boring?”
“Very funny.”
“I think so.” I smirk. Being a bitch to John really does give me pleasure.
“I’m calling to see if you got my flowers.”
“They arrived.” I roll my eyes. “Yes.”
“Did you like them?”
“I threw them in the trash, John. I want nothing to do with you. Stop calling me.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Ahh . . . yes. I do.”
“Can we go out on a date over the weekend? Like old times.”
I screw up my face. This man is a fucking idiot. “Absolutely not. I don’t even want to speak to you. I’m serious, John. Go back to Barbie town. Our ship has sailed.”