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)
I smile. “I’m not sure how we would have met otherwise, you being a hermit and me living in another country. If not for work, I wouldn’t be here.”
His expression pinches tight with frustration as he looks down at me. “Summer, you must know my last relationship with Elaine has nothing to do with my feelings for you. I only brought it up the other night because I wanted you to know my history—to know how complicated work and life has been for me these last few years.”
“I know. I promise I understand now, Nate.” I lean over and drape myself across him, laying my head on his chest. “Has it been nice writing these last few days?”
He plays with my hair, twisting the curls around his fingers. “It’s hard to describe. I feel like I reclaimed a piece of myself. Writing is an extension of my soul.”
“Sounds like a kind of psychosis,” I tease.
He laughs and tickles under my arm. “Probably is one.”
I twist out of his grasp and turn to prop my chin on his chest, looking up at him. “Will you send me the book once you’re done with it?”
His expression turns contemplative. “I wouldn’t have to send it if you’d stay here. You could read it as I write it.”
I swallow past the emotion his invitation elicits.
I want that so badly, but it can’t happen. I don’t want to be tied to this book in that way. Nate has been so clear on his struggle to write. I worry if I stay, he’ll see me as a crutch, the same way he saw Elaine. Whether or not it’s true, I don’t want to muddy the waters. Nate needs to know he wrote A Cosmic Penance completely on his own.
“I’m not going to remain on the project. Beyond the personal reasons, I don’t actually think InkWell would have paired me with you if they weren’t desperate, and now that you’re actually working on the manuscript, they’ll likely call in the big guns anyway.”
He frowns as he brings his hand up to my face. His finger traces the edge of my cheek and his gaze follows. “I’d prefer if it was you.”
I smile sadly. “It can’t be.”
He doesn’t argue because he knows I’m right. “Still, I want you to stay. Book or no book.”
Oh my god. He can’t keep asking because I’ll do it. I’ll stay.
I gather what’s left of my willpower. “I can’t, Nate. I have a life back in the States.”
“One you want to get back to?” His eyes find mine, and our gazes hold. His furrowed brows are so telling—he can’t bear the thought of me leaving for good.
“For closure, yes.” I nod. “I’m going to request to work remotely with InkWell.”
“Could you see yourself living here? With me? I have an apartment in New York too. We could stay there for part of the year…”
“Yes. I could.” I decide to go with brutal honesty at this point. “I want that so badly.”
He’s still talking, rushing on like he hasn’t heard me properly. “I can get cable and internet if that’s what you want. Plenty of my neighbors have it. Is that why you’re really running away? So you can catch up on your shows?”
I laugh and come up and over him, kissing his neck. “Nate, you fool. I want to stay here. I want to be with you so badly, but you have to finish your book. You have to finish the series on your own.”
For so long he doesn’t speak. He watches his finger trace along my jawline as he comes to terms with what he knows is right. Then his gaze lifts to mine again.
“Alright. You’ll go back to New York for a short time. And then…” he whispers hopefully, running his fingers down my spine.
“And then…” I confirm, kissing his mouth and letting him pull me back under the covers.
I doubt we’ll sleep at all tonight.
CHAPTER 26
SUMMER
One week later
I’m sitting on a leather chair in the InkWell offices staring out at the cityscape beyond the bank of windows to my left. It’s a gray, overcast day, so cold my teeth chatter just thinking about my walk home later.
Returning to life in New York has been just as jarring as I expected it to be. No more storybook village. No more little shops and quiet pubs. No more cottage. No more Nate.
Everything I once loved about the city seems unbearable now. The sludge sitting in piles on the sides of the streets, the crowded sidewalks, the pressure of the metropolis beating in from all sides. Everyone has entirely too much access to me. My phone pings with text messages and work emails at every moment. Even when I turn my TV off, trying to replicate the peace and quiet of Nate’s cottage, I can hear my neighbor’s TV blaring through the living room wall. I want to be able to cook in my apartment, but there’s no oven, and the electric burners on the stove barely get hot enough to boil a pot of water. I put in a request with my super, and I’ve been placed at the end of the long line of people with maintenance requests. So maybe come summer, it’ll actually be fixed. Hopefully, by then, I’ll be long gone…