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)
With everything in sharp focus, I start my walk back to Nate’s cottage in a comatose haze. I stare down at the ground where my flashlight lights the path, but I don’t look beyond it. I reach the back door and turn the knob and there’s Nate, standing at the sink cleaning up dinner.
My heart pounds like I’m worried he’ll know where my mind has been this last half hour.
Dreaming of you.
He glances over at me and he doesn’t smile, but then neither do I. I think my entire face is frozen solid. I’ll have to wait for blood flow to return to my extremities before I can be counted on to make a facial expression of any kind.
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him, nodding toward the dishes.
I feel guilty for leaving a mess, but I was going to get to it right when I returned from my walk.
Nate shakes his head. “It’s fine. I don’t expect you to clean up after me. That’s not your job.”
Right, well…what exactly is my job at this point? InkWell sent me here to help Nate get going on this third book, and as of a few days ago, I’ve achieved that goal. I feel useless now, in his cottage, annoyed that we’ve found ourselves in this liminal space: not enemies, not coworkers, not exactly friends and not exactly lovers. I don’t know how to exist.
I don’t move from in front of the door. It’s not just my face that’s frozen, apparently. My whole body is stuck here on the threshold.
Nate turns off the water and looks at me curiously. He sighs and comes over to where I stand. He unzips my jacket, and once it’s hanging on the hook on the door, he looks at me long enough for me to realize he’s waiting for me to lift my gaze.
I can’t.
We haven’t touched in days. I thought we were keeping our distance or something, but I don’t have it straight anymore. It’s all too hard to keep track of at this point.
He lifts his free hand and wraps it around to cradle the side of my neck, tilting my chin up ever so gently with his thumb. His eyes study mine, and I try not to tremble. “Why did you go on a walk?”
I’m not ready to answer that question, so I divert. “Why did you?”
His mouth quirks with amusement. “A certain paragraph in my manuscript was bothering me. I couldn’t work it out before.” He nods his chin. “Now you.”
“My life is bothering me. I couldn’t work it out before.”
His gaze turns serious. “And now?”
I look away. “And now I have my answer,” I say with a conclusive sigh. “Now let me go finish washing those dishes so I can be useful.”
Instead of listening, he keeps ahold of me. I just know he’s going to ask me more, but I can’t let him get close to my wound. This whole thing could unravel so quickly. He strokes my neck with his thumb, eliciting the most delicious twist of desire. More, my heart demands. Another night and then when that’s not enough, one more after.
“You didn’t include anything about Amelia and Julian in the summary,” I say faintly.
When he doesn’t reply, I peer up to see he’s frowning.
“It’ll be in the manuscript,” he says tersely.
“But why not include details in the summary?” I press. “It’s important.”
He pulls his hand off me. “It’s not something that can be condensed in a meaningful way. InkWell will discover my plans for Amelia and Julian when I hand in my first draft.”
It feels like he’s brushing me off.
Fine.
I turn away and cross my arms. Already, I’m bracing myself for more of the same. He’ll turn and head upstairs, he’ll close his door, and I’ll be left in the deafening silence.
But then instead, he lowers his head and rests his forehead against my hair, sighing like he’s defeated. “I-I can’t do this anymore, Summer. I can’t have you here, needing you…” He stumbles over his words and shakes his head. “I can’t pretend otherwise. I’m so selfish, I know.” He reaches out and grabs my shirt, fisting it. “For your career, everything hinges on this project, and I can’t put you in this position—”
He doesn’t realize then. He doesn’t know what I have to do if we’re ever going to get this to work.
“It’s okay. I’m leaving, Nate.”
He closes his eyes as the words wash over him. For a moment he gathers himself, and I think he’s going to return to the dishes, giving me no reaction outside a simple nod. Just like with Andrew, there will be no fight.
Then he rolls his jaw, clenching it resolutely as he stares down at me. “No.”
The word is so sharp it could cut.
I laugh, slightly startled. “What do you mean no?”