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)
“In the morning.”
Andrew rarely raises his voice. He’s agreeable and kind. I think maybe if he pressed the issue, I would be honest with him right now, but he nods, more than willing to accommodate me. Never mind that he flew halfway around the world to get to me. Never mind that he took a car to the middle of nowhere and has put up with Nate’s awful attitude all evening. Never mind that I can’t even look him in the eye for more than a few seconds at a time.
I want to shelve the status of our relationship until the morning and that’s that. He doesn’t push me on it.
It’s a huge relief. I’m hoping by morning, I’ll feel differently. The shock of his arrival will have worn off and I’ll feel more solid in our relationship. It’s probably always a little strange to reunite with someone you haven’t seen in a long time, like starting back at ground zero in a way.
Hours later, it’s the middle of the night, and I’m standing at the kitchen counter in my oversized t-shirt and fuzzy socks. I have a warm cup of tea clutched between my hands and I’m staring out at the sprinkling of snow gently falling to the ground. I can’t see much of it. There’s only a small lamp on in the kitchen, not enough to light the whole backyard, but I love how tender it feels to be awake with the snow.
I wasn’t able to fall asleep, but Andrew’s been dead to the world for hours. He’s always been good like that. The moment his head touches the pillow, he’s out like a light.
I thought sleeping in the small bed together would make it difficult for him, but no. He wrapped himself around me, using me like a child uses a teddy bear, and then I tried to go to sleep as well, but I couldn’t. I held myself absolutely motionless, barely breathing, trying not to disturb him. Eventually, when I couldn’t lie awake listening to Andrew sleeping for one more second, I slipped out of bed and padded quietly downstairs.
I’m feeling twisted up inside. Angry and guilty and resentful.
Andrew and I probably should have had sex tonight. If we were going to repair things, that would have been a good place to start. I know he assumed it would happen. He came all the way here to prove his love for me, to win me back.
When we lay down together in bed, he reached over to draw me closer.
“I love you,” he said, and it brought me back to the first time he said it to me in that loud whisper in front of my family. I felt the exact same pressure on my chest, only this time, I didn’t say it back. I leaned over and kissed his cheek then pretended to fall asleep.
A part of me wishes I’d just said it as a way to force the future and tip the scales in that direction. Better yet, if I’d said I love you and we’d had sex, it would be clear to us both that we were officially back together. Everything would be out of my hands. No more crippling indecision.
According to my family, I would have done the perfect thing. Fast-forward to Connecticut summers, a three-car garage, a boat, a brownstone. Smart little children running off to private school and my husband, the successful investment banker, making me feel loved and cherished for as long as I live.
What more could a person want?
The snow is picking up a bit now. The flurries are so light the wind swirls them around and around. I feel like a little figurine standing inside a snow globe: a girl with her face in the window, a steaming cup of tea partially blurring her features.
I don’t think I’ll ever get around to actually drinking it. It’s not very good and I already added generous amounts of honey and sugar to it. At this point, it’s more dessert than drink, and yet somehow it still tastes bitter.
Suddenly, I feel Cat. I look down to see him twine himself between my legs, rubbing his face against my calf. He loops back through to do it again, and I smile at him.
“Where have you been, you minx?” I ask him, though I already know. We put him in Nate’s room earlier. But if he’s out here, that means—
Nate steps off the last stair and freezes when he sees me standing near the kitchen window, peering at him over my shoulder. The sight of him steals my breath. He’s shirtless, wearing navy sleeping pants that sit low on his tapered waist. It’s not the pants that draw my attention, obviously, but I look at them because I can’t keep staring at his chest. There’s a dominance about him that’s impossible to ignore, a quiet strength. Nate has interrupted my moment of solitude, and it only takes milliseconds for my heart rate to respond, racing to catch up to this new development.