Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“You just had a glimmer from me asking you to make a wish on your eyelash?”
She nodded. “One hundred percent. And from you smiling. Your smiles are few and far between, but wow, do I like them.”
Who was this woman, and why was she turning my world upside down with every syllable that fell from her tongue?
She pursed her lips together, closed her eyes, and blew the eyelash away, making a wish.
When her brown eyes reappeared, they smiled more than her lips. My whole body found warmth merely from staring into her eyes.
“Are you going to tell me what you wished for?” I asked.
“That would cancel it out. You’re not supposed to share your wishes with others.”
I leaned in toward her and whispered, “Don’t worry. I’m hardly a person.”
She leaned in closer toward me. “You seem very person-like to me.”
“That’s just the effects of sangria. Really, I’m a monster.”
Yara bit her bottom lip, and all I wanted to do was nuzzle it, too. I needed to stop staring at her mouth. The more I stared, the more my thoughts became clouded. What was she doing to me?
“If I tell you my wish,” she softly spoke, narrowing her eyes as she locked them with mine, “you have to promise not to tell another soul.”
"That's easy enough. I don’t talk to people."
"You talk to Tatiana."
“That doesn’t count. Tatiana is like…”
“A fairy godmother.” Yara giggled. “She’s weird and perfect and always right.”
As far as I knew, I couldn’t disagree with that fact.
Yara took another sip, humming to herself.
For a moment, I sat there and took her in. She was heartbroken and drunk and beautiful and drunk and sad and drunk and perfectly imperfect. I hated that bad things could happen to good people because they didn’t seem to deserve it at all. And Yara Kingsley was a good person. She was the kind of person who made me almost consider being good, too.
“I don’t have one for you,” she randomly said.
“What do you mean?”
“A nickname. You call me Goldie, and I call you Alex.” She tilted her head to the side to look at me. “You need a nickname.”
“To be fair, Alex is my nickname.”
“Short for Alexander?”
I shook my head. “Alejandro. I was named after my great-grandfather.”
“That’s a beautiful name.”
“Goldie?”
“Yes?”
“Why are you crying?”
She laughed as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I don’t know. I just really like that name. Can I un-nickname you and call you Alejandro?”
I laughed. “You’re drunk. You probably won’t even remember this tomorrow.”
“I swear I will if you say I can call you it. Does anyone call you that?”
I shook my head. “My great-aunt Teresa was the only one who called me it.”
“Oh.” She paused and sat up more. “So it was her thing. I don’t want to take her thing.”
I smiled. “You can take that thing. But only you can call me it. No one else.”
“Is it because you think I’m nice?” she said, pursing her lips together, hopeful.
“I think you’re awful.”
She swung her legs back over the sofa arm and inched closer to me. “I think you’re lying.”
“I think I’m lying, too.”
She smiled and I wanted to do everything in my power to keep that smile on her face. How idiotic past Alex was to think that Yara was a liar due to her niceness to everyone. It just turned out that she was, in fact…nice. She was beyond nice. She was the kind of good that poets wrote love sonnets about. The kind of good that people prayed to cross paths with. The kind of good that people hurt the most.
“Kitty Kat?” she asked, arching a brow.
“What?”
“Can I call you Kitty Kat?”
I stared at her as if she’d grown five heads. “Excuse me?”
“It’s another nickname option. I’m a golden retriever, and you’re a black cat. I figured I could call you Kitty Kat.”
“In no way, shape, or form should you ever call me Kitty Kat.”
She pouted and crossed her arms with a heavy huff. “You’re no fun.”
“Whoever told you I was fun?”
“My imagination.” She fussed for a second before pointing toward me. “Oh! I got it. I’ll call you Mr. Black.”
“Mr. Black?”
“You know…black cat. Plus, it’s mysterious. Like you.”
I smiled. “It’s better than Kitty Kat.”
“I still like Kitty Kat, Mr. Black.”
“I’m sure you do, Goldie.”
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“Remember when my psycho ex told my crush not to go out with me?”
“Yeah, Goldie. I remember that.”
“And then my psycho ex showed up to dinner?”
“Yup.”
“That kind of sucked.”
“He kind of sucks.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. She blew out a big puff of air. “I still don’t know what to do about him. Before, it was just hearsay that he was stopping people from dating me, but now I have literal proof from Jake.”
“Josh.”
“Whatever.” She waved me off. “I knew Cole was controlling during our relationship, but I didn’t think he’d be that way after the divorce. That was the whole reason I got away from him.”