Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
She worries her lip between her teeth, staring at me with wild eyes. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I need her to say something, anything, because for the first time I’m putting my heart on the line here and I have absolutely no idea how she’s going to take it.
I look back to the road, turning off on the exit that leads to the winery.
The silence is too thick.
“I got an email from Rachel,” I tell her.
“What?” she asks, her voice sounding raw. At least that got her attention.
“Yeah, this morning. Strange timing considering.”
“Considering what?”
“Heath and I were talking about her last night.”
“Oh,” she says, her voice becoming small. She looks out the window again. “What did she want?”
“She wants me back.”
She stiffens, her fingers paused before they go back to playing with the pleats in her dress. “I see.”
“She said that she made a huge mistake, that she regrets cheating on me. Her own heart was broken, karma, of course, and she knows the pain I went through. Apparently I was the only loyal, dependable thing in her life, if you can believe that.” I let out a caustic laugh. “She said she still loves me with all her heart, that she never stopped loving me and wants a second chance.”
My eyes keep darting between the road and Amanda. She’s gripping her dress, her knuckles going white, but she won’t face me.
“Are you going to take her back?” she asks quietly. “Try long distance again?”
The fact that this so obviously bothers her is like a tonic to my soul. It means she has to care.
“Do you think I’m going to take her back? Do you think I’m still in love with her?”
She shrugs with one shoulder.
“Amanda,” I say, grappling for the words. When I don’t say anything else, she slowly turns her head to look at me. Fearful. Hopeful.
“I told her it was too late,” I admit. “I told her I didn’t love her anymore, because I don’t. That ship sailed a long time ago. And I told her I wished her the best of luck but the truth was, I’ve met someone else.” I give her a faint smile, aware of everything riding on this. “You.”
“Me?” she repeats, her voice barely audible.
“I didn’t mean it as a work partner. I didn’t mean it as someone I’m casually sleeping with. I meant in a completely jumping the gun, getting ahead of myself, answering for you when I shouldn’t, I want you to be my girlfriend kind of way. She doesn’t have my affection, my future, or my heart. You do, Amanda. You do.”
There. I’ve laid it all out on the table.
No regrets.
Except she’s still not saying anything. She’s just staring at me incredulously
And I’m pretty sure one of Fluffy’s crickets is loose in the car and chirping on cue.
Finally she says, “That is the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Honestly, I’m shocked.”
I sigh. “You know what? It’s true. You don’t have a romantic bone in your body.” I raise my finger. “And don’t make a joke about the romantic bone in my pants because I walked right into that one.”
We lapse into an uneasy silence.
“So,” I say, eyeing her. “You’re just going to let me tell you that shit and you’re not going to say anything?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“What do you want me to say?” I repeat, raising my voice, nearly taking the car off the road. “How about anything? How about, oh Blake, I want to be with you too, you have the biggest cock I’ve ever seen. Or how about, Blake, you’re a fucking wanker and I hope you get on the next plane to Yorkshire.”
She cocks her head, her brows knitting together. “I think it’s been pretty obvious how I’ve felt.”
I feel like my fucking head is exploding. “Obvious? I don’t even know what you’re going to say or how you feel, so no, not obvious. What the hell is with you girls? You think every man is a fucking mind reader.” I give her a look. “It’s called communication.”
“Well, you could have told me your revelation earlier.”
“I could have, if I had realized it.”
“Men,” she says, shaking her head. “You think with your dick so much you never once stop to check in with your brain.”
“Look, I think we both can agree it’s hard to think when you’re not only peddling smut but acting it out like a full-time job. Writing has become the day shift, fucking has become the night shift.”
“Agreed.”
“So now what?”
“I guess I’m your girlfriend,” she says, the corner of her mouth turning up into a smile.
“Are you going to laugh? Are you taking the piss?”
“Kind of,” she admits, and breaks into a warm grin. But that’s when I see it. It’s not humor, its happiness. I have to assume she can see the same thing on my face.