Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Our second and most recent breakup happened a few months ago. He asked me to move in with him, I said I wasn’t ready, and Andrew—angry and sad that I continued to thwart the forward progress of our relationship—put his foot down and said he wanted us to go on a break.
I feel guilt over my inability to commit to him, but I’m still hopeful that someday things will just click for us, that I’ll wake up and love him the way I know I should.
Nathaniel seems like the exact opposite of Andrew, physically, at least. Where Andrew is khakis and a neat haircut, Nathaniel is worn blue jeans and a scruffy jaw. Nathaniel, generally, seems like one of the most romantic men I’ve ever met in real life, like his artistic soul lives right on the surface. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, but he’s gentle about his size, like he knows it might intimidate me and he’s trying to lessen the effect. He looks up and his bluer than blue eyes catch mine, and though my stomach squeezes tight, I force a smile.
“Good?” I prompt, nodding toward the coffee.
“Brilliant.”
My smile spreads into a real grin. I’m happy to have done one thing right around here. I’ve been a nuisance since my arrival. I tried to clean up the kitchen last night before I went to bed, and I’ll be sure to clean up breakfast since he did most of the heavy lifting this morning. He didn’t have to go get groceries. It must have been freezing cold out. He said he prefers toast and coffee and I see a full loaf of bread on the counter, so I know he went through the trouble just for me.
Now comes the hard part.
I have to break the peace.
I’ve inhaled my bacon and eggs so fast I’ve probably alarmed him, but I couldn’t pace myself. It was really good. The bacon was crispy and perfectly cooked, the eggs weren’t too runny. I complimented his cooking, but I can’t keep putting off the inevitable. This is not a pleasant breakfast with a gorgeous man in the English countryside. I’m here for work.
I set my mug down after stealing one last heavy sip.
“Nathaniel—”
“Nate,” he interrupts, his eyes cutting up to look at me. Each time he does, my stomach pinches tight.
“Nate,” I amend. “I’m beginning to understand now, I think. The pressure you must be feeling is impossible.”
He sits back in his chair and wipes his mouth with a napkin. I look down at my plate, giving him a moment to adjust to the subject change, but he goes so long without saying anything that I’m forced to look up again. He’s been assessing me with a sharp expression. If I thought he looked soft or kind when I noticed the kitten mug, that’s completely gone now. From this distance, his blue eyes feel like a weapon.
“I’ve made up my mind. You’ll stay here.”
He says it like it’s a foregone conclusion.
“I’ll stay here?” I toss back at him for clarity. What is he talking about? “Is the snow that bad?” I turn to look out the window. I mean sure there’s a lot, but can’t he get me to a train or something? He managed to get to the store this morning.
He doesn’t look amused. “It’s not the weather. Are you here to do a job or not?”
I’m having a hard time keeping up. Last night, he seemed adamant that he wanted me gone. This morning as well.
“You’re going to let me help you? Since when?”
“Since I decided.”
I rear back, thinking fast, trying to connect pieces of the mystery. I was preparing for a fight. I thought I was really going to have my work cut out for me here and now suddenly he’s being accommodating? “This makes no sense. No offense—and I mean this as politely as possible—but it’s very obvious that you want nothing to do with me.”
“I’ll work on that,” he says, not the least bit bothered as he scoots back from the table to get another helping of bacon. “Take the room you stayed in last night.”
“The room I…” I let the words trail off like I can’t wrap my head around them.
He’s really inviting me to stay.
CHAPTER 6
SUMMER
From my second-story window, I watch Nate chopping wood near a shed at the back of his property. I’ve never actually seen someone chop wood in real life. On a TV show, sure, but in real life my lumber needs are taken care of sans axe. In fact, I’ve never even lived somewhere as an adult that had a wood-burning fireplace. My last apartment in New York City—part of Columbia graduate housing—came equipped with a shitty furnace I had to harass to get to work properly. I swear every time I was at my wit’s end with it, annoyed enough to scream, it’d get its act together before I had to call maintenance.