Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Rhyland looked pensive, deep in thought. He’d been like this since we boarded for Texas, and I wondered if there was something on his mind that didn’t include our little weekend charade. Maybe something to do with his parents, whom he refused to speak to.
The last stop in our grand Marshall estate tour was off the main pathway leading to their door, beyond the ranch itself. It was an old, round well made of heavy black stones. With a galvanized metal jug hanging on a frame under its wooden roof, it looked like something out of a Grimm Brothers tale, and I pressed Gravity hard to my chest, afraid she’d wiggle off and launch herself into it.
“And this is the family wishing well.” Bruce stopped to pat the hot stones with a proud smirk. “I ain’t superstitious or anything, but this wishing well has made quite the name for itself over the past couple centuries. We stopped utilizing it for water in around 1900. My great-great-grandfather fell ill during that time, and his wife, Bertha—she was a nurse—thought he’d never get out of it. The doctors gave him a few days. Folk traveled from all over to say goodbye to the old man. One night, she sat on the edge of the wishing well, dropped a coin in, and prayed he’d get better. The next morning, he woke up feelin’ like a trillion bucks!” Bruce’s eyes gleamed with juvenile enthusiasm. “Since then, people from all over Texas come here to drop a coin and make a wish. This lil baby has helped countless people.” He smacked the stones again. “Get married, get pregnant, overcome illnesses, gather the courage to do something new. You should try it sometime.”
“Charming, but people under the age of fifty don’t carry cash on them, let alone petty cash,” Rhyland said brutally.
I elbowed him. What was wrong with him? I knew there was some tension between him and Bruce, but the latter was finally opening up.
“Don’t be a cynic,” Bruce said. “Where there is no belief, there is no growth. Doesn’t matter who your god is. Could be justice, hope, or the Big Daddy in the sky. You have to believe in something, or you have nothing to live for.”
When we got back to the main house, Jolene suggested Gravity help her make cornbread. Rhyland and I retired to our room, adjacent to Gravity’s bedroom. For all their conservativeness, Jolene and Bruce had allotted us one bed even though we weren’t yet married.
When Rhyland unzipped his suitcase on the bed, I went in for the kill.
“What’s up with you?” I hopped onto the mattress. “You’ve been surly.”
“Nothing,” he muttered, tugging out expensive polo shirts and designer briefs.
I’d never seen Rhyland in a bad mood. In fact, up until now, I wasn’t entirely sure he was capable of one.
“If I wanted a bullshitter, I’d have stayed with Tuckwad.” I frowned. “You’re obviously upset. Is it about Bruce? Is it abou—”
“Yesterday, I mortgaged my apartment.” He flicked his empty suitcase shut, tossing it to the floor.
My jaw loosened with shock, and I shot to my feet, placing my palm on his cheek. He looked the other way sharply, hissing with humiliation as the pink flush on his neck crawled up to his face.
“I’ve been such a fucking idiot for years. Recklessly spending all my money. Thinking I could live like my much richer friends. Every bad idea I ever stumbled into, I took. I got a fucking six-million-dollar penthouse basically for free…”
Holy shit, his place is worth six million?
“And I managed to lose it.”
Guilt gnawed at me for charging him an insane amount of money for our fake relationship.
“You haven’t lost the apartment,” I whispered. “Mortgaging means nothing. I mean, I heard some people do it for better rates or whatever!” I was really talking out of my ass now, since I’d never owned anything more expensive than a Dyson hair dryer and had no idea how those things worked. “And look.” I licked my lips. “Forget about my fee. I’ll pick up more shifts at the Alchemist…”
“No,” Rhyland said decisively, shutting down the idea. “Paying you so you can take care of yourself and Grav is the least stupid thing I’ve been doing with my money. This has nothing to do with you.”
“But, Rhy—”
“No.” He grabbed my shoulders, squeezing as he peered into my eyes. “Stop making this about our arrangement, okay? It’s not you I’m mad at. It’s myself. It took me all these years to figure out how to live my life, and now I’m playing catch-up.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you’re doing a pretty awesome job.” I smiled at him tentatively.
He gripped my waist and jerked me to him, giving me a peck on the lips. We’d been careful not to be handsy in front of Gravity. “Would you call yourself a fan, Cosmos?”