Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“Yes, I remember,” she answers softly.
“My jet was . . .” I make a gesture, my heart hammering as my words begin to tumble over themselves. “Then my luggage went to Guangzhou. Not that I blame it, because I wouldn’t want to be seen with me—just look at the state of me.”
“I am.” She fights a smile, not quite giving in. “But what are you doing here?”
“Eve.” Her name brims with emotion. “I’ve flown not only commercial but coach across the world, hurtled through a mountain range in a tin can piloted by a madman. I’ve endured a three-hour ride in an ancient Land Rover that has probably given me brain damage, thanks to a lack of shock absorbers and unpaved roads. I’m certain I’ve left the shape of my skull in its roof. I have a very nasty case of tropical swamp arse thanks to the heat, and—”
“Oliver?”
“—I’d do it all again because, well, because of hope. And love.” I take a breath, pulling it deep. “Eve. My darling, I have been such an idiot on so many fronts.”
“I know.”
“You do? I shouldn’t have kept Lucy secret from you. I’m sorry. I was so ashamed.”
“Of her?”
“Of myself. Of how I behaved. Through all of it.”
“Think you can say that again?” she asks, pulling back.
“Yes, of course, I’ll say it again and again, but please—” But then her fingers are sliding into mine, and she’s leading me to a shack.
“You’d better come in.”
My heart pounds painfully at her solemn expression. At what, or who, I might find inside.
“You still there?”
My blood freezes as I steel myself. It doesn’t matter. Tucker the fucker could never love her like I will.
“Still here and glad to hear you haven’t been carted off by the raskols.”
Lucy?
“I googled that,” my sister adds, her tone tinny. “I suggest you don’t do the same. Please tell me you have an armed escort.”
“Well, I have an escort.” Eve reaches for her phone, holding it up. “And he has arms. Say hi to your brother.”
“Oh my God—you’re there!” My sister’s smile is so wide.
“How?”
“Brought to you by the magic of Google and an email or two,” Eve says.
“And lots of telephone calls,” Lucy laughingly puts in.
And then I’m looking at her, my sister. The internet connection is poor, but it doesn’t stop me from noticing how glossy her eyes are. Mine too.
“How your ears must’ve burned,” she says.
“You put in a good word for me, though, I’m sure.” My words are all bluster as gladness rushes through me.
“I told her the truth.”
“Which is what I deserve,” I answer in a more serious tone.
“That you deserve happiness. You both do. I love you, Oliver. Now, stop being a prat, and give Eve a proper kiss.”
“Luce!” Eve exclaims.
“I’m ending the call now, but I expect to hear from you both soon.”
The call ends, and Eve puts her phone back on a grubby, makeshift dresser. “I like Lucy a whole lot.”
“She inherited the good traits,” I answer, swallowing thickly. I can’t believe they’ve been in contact, that they’re . . . friends? “I miss her.”
“She misses you.” She folds her arms, not exactly defensively—more like she’s trying to hold herself together. “You have to get over the past, Oliver. Make things right.”
My heart gives a little pang. Just like Eve, putting others first.
“I will—I am,” I insist, desperation poking me in the ribs. “I got over Atherton.”
Her gaze lifts, but not her head, as she eyes me skeptically.
“It’s true. I was blinded for a while, but you brought me into the light. You’re more important than revenge, more important than anything. I didn’t try to steal Nora’s land. I just made a pig’s arse out of myself trying to impress you.”
“Impress me?”
“I wanted to make up for all I’d done to you. Hell, it’s not even that. You make me see things differently, Eve. You fucking inspire me. You are so kind and so lovely.” I close my eyes, not quite believing what I’m about to say. “Damn it, you make me want to be a better man!”
“Wow. That’s quite an accusation,” she says, her words as tremulous as her expression.
“Not that I’m all bad.”
She pulls a face as though considering this. “Maybe not even half-bad,” she eventually says with a shrug.
“Good.” I blow out a breath. “I mean, thank you.” She smiles, and I find myself rushing on. “That auction lot—a night with me? Does that strike you as something I’d ever be into?”
“Not for charity, at least. That was meant to be a joke,” she adds quickly. “I know it wasn’t you, but at the time . . .”
“I gave you a thousand reasons to worry, I know. Eve, I’m—”
“All I could see was how you’d manipulated me. You were about to propose, and even that felt the same. I told myself you were just like Mitch.”