Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
I googled ideas as my jet taxied the runway. A sweet card with a treat, a homemade dinner with candlelight, a picnic in the park, play or sing his favorite song, plan an idyllic movie night with adorable matching pajamas. What the fuck?
See what I did to myself? I highly recommend not overthinking.
I checked into my suite, dropped my bag in my room, and headed into the night toward Logan Square. Except, I made a wrong turn and ended up a couple of blocks away in front of a burger joint. I pulled out my cell to check the map when inspiration struck.
I typed my location and took a photo for posterity. I’m in Philly. Can you meet me here?
Trent called a moment later. “You’re here? What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means that I just happened to be in your neighborhood,” I said in a rush, stepping aside for a gaggle of noisy teens passing by.
“Seb.”
“Will you meet me?”
Silence.
“Seb.”
“Please.”
He sighed. “Okay. I can be there in fifteen.”
I hung up before he could change his mind, then went inside to place my order, returning to my post to wait for him with a drink in hand.
I wasn’t prepared for the sudden swarm of butterflies in my stomach at the sight of Trent striding toward me. He looked calm and cool, and very much at home. And damn, he was beautiful to me. Like a lion on the move…strong and fierce and proud.
“Hey, uh…hi,” I stammered, pushing the to-go cup in his hand. “This is for you.”
Trent lifted his brow, studying me thoughtfully before tapping the plastic lid. “What is it?”
“A chocolate milkshake.”
“Did I ask for this?” he countered with a smile I returned tenfold, loving that he remembered I’d asked him the same question months ago.
“No, but I think you’ll like it.”
“Thanks. Where’s yours?”
I shook my head and slipped my hands into my pockets, then crossed them over my chest. “I’m too nervous for food…or milkshakes.”
“Why are you nervous?” He popped the straw I’d handed him into his cup and strolled down the street.
An unconvincing shrug was the best I could do. Those butterflies felt like hummingbirds slamming against my rib cage, accompanied by a surreal, clear certainty that this moment was one of the biggest moments in my life. Right up there with the day I left home, the day I found Charlie on a basket on my doorstep, the day I met Gray, the day Oliver was born…the day I followed Trent across the country to tell him I couldn’t live without him.
I just didn’t know how to put the sentiment into words. So I walked at his side and followed him into a park-like area.
“This is pretty,” I commented. “Where are we?”
“Rittenhouse Square.”
“I’ll have to come by during the day and—”
Trent stopped in the middle of the pathway next to a lamplight that cast half his face in sharp relief. “Seb. Why are you here?”
Fuck. This was it.
“I have something to say, and I didn’t want to wait till you got back to LA. And I definitely didn’t want to text you.”
“Okay, well…I hope you didn’t waste your time, ’cause I’m still not doing the ad. Don’t offer me money or tell me—”
“I love you,” I blurted.
Trent froze.
The still evening pulsed around us with the sounds of traffic and sirens and the twinkle of streetlights and neon signs in the distance. It was vibrant and alive and filled with the kind of exuberant optimism that reminded me of summertime in any big city.
But here…where we stood, two feet apart under that lamplight, it was silent. So very, very quiet.
“Seb, you don’t have to—”
“I do. You told me to be honest and I thought I was doing okay, but I failed to tell you that this”—I pointed between us feverishly—“isn’t fake to me. You’re very real, and you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a very long time. I can’t let you go.”
“Seb…”
I held up a finger and paced away from him. “I know I’m not easy. I know I come with supersized baggage and enough issues to keep a team of therapists busy for years. And I’m older than you too. I’ll be popping Viagra and shopping for cool gifts for grandkids before I know it. My house is too big, I’m a terrible cook, and I like getting my own way.”
“You steal the covers too,” he added with a lopsided grin.
“Yeah, I know. I’m terrible. The worst.” I stepped in front of him and swallowed hard. “But I love you. You’re strong and good and you’re a better man than I deserve, but I…I want you. I want this to be real.”
Trent set his cup on the ground, then rubbed his stubbled jaw. “What is real to you? What does that mean? ’Cause the real me isn’t special, Seb. I’ve been thinking about what comes next and…I wanna teach after-school acting classes at the playhouse and apply for a gig teaching English lit at a community college.”