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)
“Boring as shit,” he completed for me. “Plus, the booth is manned by two engineers and a PR guru I hired to mesmerize the crowd. They’re working their charm. There’s a twenty-person line waiting to see us.”
“Oh wow,” I whimpered. “That’s amazing.”
It didn’t escape me that both Tucker and Rhyland needed money. But whereas Rhyland spent every penny he didn’t have on paying me a salary for a made-up job so I could take care of my child (when he’d paid for a vasectomy as a teen), Tucker was constantly begging me to hook him up with Row so he could make a quick buck or borrow one. Tucker was also burning through his money in get-rich-quick schemes, I suspected, because he tended to receive upsetting texts that ruined his mood whenever I was around. The difference was staggering.
“So I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Hang in there.”
Thirty minutes later, Rhyland was feeding me wontons and chicken soup on my couch. He propped some pillows up so I could sit down comfortably, blowing gently on the spoonful of soup before bringing it to my lips.
Gravity sat in the breakfast nook across from us, enjoying a bento box from the same takeout place, with fries, teriyaki chicken, and fruit. We hadn’t eaten all day. I was so grateful I was close to tears.
“Motrin kicked in yet?” Rhy blew on my soup before guiding it to my mouth again.
I nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
“You need to alternate between Motrin and Tylenol for best results. The doctor should be here any minute.”
“Rhy, I’m so sorry—”
“Please shut up.” He looked a little pissed off, and I wondered if it was because of the conference or because I was mortifyingly embarrassed about him being here. “If I were in the same condition, I’d expect you to drop literally everything and wipe my ass.”
“Why? We don’t have that kind of relationship.” I blinked lethargically.
“Yes, we do,” he said. “I wasn’t gaslighting you back in Texas. We’re friends now, Cosmos. And friends show up for each other.” His nostrils flared. “I’ll always show up for you.”
A few minutes later, the doctor knocked on my door—a tan, lean, balding man who prescribed me some antibiotics after checking my throat. The doctor recommended I take another lukewarm bath to bring down the fever before bedtime. “This time with supervision,” he chuckled, because of course Grav had shared with him the fact that I fell asleep in the bathtub.
Rhyland put Gravity to bed, read her a good-night story, then drew me a bath. Having been pumped with antibiotics and Motrin/Tylenol the second half of the day, I felt significantly better. I sat in the tub, Rhy perched on the edge of it, and closed my eyes, giving in to the small pleasure of having him there.
“At least your conference went well.” I perked up, opening my eyes.
“About that…” Rhyland gave me a rueful smirk. “I lied. I didn’t want you to talk me out of coming here. There was no PR guru and no twenty-person line waiting to see my app.”
We were both quiet for a moment while I digested all this. For the first time in my life, I wanted to ask my brother for a loan. Not for me but for Rhyland. Only I knew he’d never accept it.
“But, I mean, it wasn’t terrible.” He forced out a smirk. “Some people came by. I exchanged business cards with a ton of tech bros, and those who stopped by my booth showed actual enthusiasm for the app, so we’ll see.”
“How can I help?” I asked.
“You can’t,” he said too quickly. “Bruce’ll sign the contract any day now—his lawyers are going over it right now—and then I’ll be gold.”
But the statement lacked the confident shine with which Rhyland usually delivered his words.
“Oh, by the way, I found out why he’s so traumatized by fuckboys.” His fingers swooshed the water, gently caressing the tips of my nipples. I was way too comfortable to be self-conscious in front of him.
“Yeah?” I purred with my eyes closed. “Why?”
“Tate. Apparently, he fucked him over by buying the lot he knew Bruce wanted to bury his dad in.”
“That’s disgusting.” I made a face. “Also, I wouldn’t consider Tate a fuckboy. A demon? Yes. A ghoul? Absolutely. The reason humanity doesn’t deserve nice things? Sounds about right. But not a fuckboy.”
“You’re probably right.”
“No. I’m always right.”
“Sassing back, I see.” His hand cupped my boob, dipping all the way into the water, and I moaned, instinctively arching myself, on offer to him. “Means you’re all better now.”
“Thank you for taking care of me.” I tipped my chin up, searching for his lips, and he leaned down, giving them to me in a gentle, unhurried kiss.
“Thank you for letting me,” he said. “I know how hard it is for you to let go.”