Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“I think that’s normal, baby. It’s always difficult for people to remember the good times, especially if those times are connected to something or someone who hurt them.” He turns me to face him then looks around my apartment before lowering his voice. “Jamie is going to be here soon. Why don’t you go up to my place to wait for him and I’ll take care of things here?”
“I don’t think it will take me much longer to get things picked up.” It’s a lie. I thought I remembered from last night how bad things were, but I was wrong. It’s taken me over an hour with help from Braxton and his parents to get all my photos picked up and placed on the counters to dry, but my clothes and other things are still scattered across the apartment and shoved in the sink and the bathtub that are still filled with water.
“Dakota!” Alisha calls, dragging my attention away from her son. “Why don’t you let me and Bret gather the stuff we think is salvageable, and then Braxton can have everything else taken care of?”
I look from her to her husband. Since the moment I came out dressed in the clothes they went out to pick up for me, they have been at my side, wanting to pitch in and help in whatever way they can. I start to look around but stop when she takes my hand.
“I know you want to be here, but—” She pauses, glancing around still looking as worried as she did the moment she walked in here earlier. “—I don’t think you should be.”
I drag in a breath then nod, knowing she’s right, and now that I’ve gotten my photos picked up, the rest doesn’t really matter anyway. “Okay.” I give her a hug. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she says quietly then lets me go and looks at her son. “Take her upstairs.”
Without another word, Braxton leads me from my apartment to the elevator, and moments later holding my fish, we are stepping into his place. I place the small bowl on the counter in the kitchen then go to the couch and fall to my back. I shouldn’t be tired, but I feel exhausted. I need a vacation, a long one.
“Do you want some tea?” he asks, and I make an affirmative grunting noise.
“I’m taking that as a yes.” He laughs from the kitchen.
I peek one eye open when Braxton comes over and sits on the coffee table then sit up when he holds a cup out toward me. “Thanks.” I take the mug from him and check him out as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a move that causes the black T-shirt he’s wearing to stretch across his shoulders, and the muscles in his arms to flex. “I like you in regular-people clothes.”
“Regular-people clothes?”
“I’m used to seeing you in suits or dress clothes, but you look good wearing jeans and T-shirts.”
“Hmm.”
I take a sip of tea then ask, “Would you think less of me if I used the fact that I’m sleeping with you to get a vacation?”
“What?” He laughs.
“Well, I need a vacation, but I just started working for IMG, so I don’t think it will get approved. But since I’m sleeping with you, do you think you can pull some strings?”
“It depends.”
“On what?” I raise a brow.
“Exactly what would you be willing to do in order to get this vacation?”
“I think that question would be considered sexual harassment,” I say as he takes the cup from my hand and sets it on the table. Then he crowds my space until I’m lying back on the couch. “What are you doing, Mr. Adams?”
He opens his mouth to reply, but an annoying buzzing sound breaks into the moment and he groans, resting his forehead to mine. “That’s probably your brother.”
“I want this day to be over already.” I sigh, and he laughs, pushing away from me. He goes to the intercom on the wall in the kitchen, and I listen to him tell security that Jamie is allowed up. What feels like seconds later, the elevator doors open and my brother steps out. I don’t even bother getting up from the couch to greet him. I wait for him to come to me, and when he does, he frowns down at me.
“What’s wrong?”
“We need to have a conversation,” Braxton tells him, bringing two beers over and handing one to Jamie.
“Are you two having a baby?”
I glance at Braxton, wondering what the look on his face means, and quickly say, “I’m not pregnant.” Jamie visibly relaxes, but I’m too chicken to look at Braxton again. I’m on birth control, not that Braxton and I have ever once discussed that or children. I don’t even know if he wants a family someday. I hope he does, because that is something I for sure want, and I know if he doesn’t, this will never work. “Can you sit down?” I pat the couch next to me, and after Jamie sits, I take his hand.