Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“I think that’s a smart choice.”
“Being here has made me realize I should be doing something I love.” I tilt my head up and look toward the sky. A light dusting of clouds forms a canopy above us.
“What about here made you think that?”
Lowering my gaze, I look into his eyes. “You,” I say honestly.
He crosses the distance between us on the picnic blanket. At first, his lips are soft on mine, coaxing my mouth open, and then it grows more passionate.
The kiss is different.
It’s as if he’s trying to put into words what he’s feeling with a kiss.
He’s not the most open man, but I have come to understand him in a short time.
After a few seconds, he pulls, away and the moment is lost.
“Are you done?”
I’m a little taken aback by his question, and I move to stand. When I do, I see a wispy white dandelion, fluffy and in need of a wish.
Leaning over, I grab it in my hand and bring it up to my face.
“Picking my weeds?”
“A dandelion isn’t a weed.” Cain is standing beside me, and I hold it out for him to look at. “It’s a symbol of hope and love. It’s a symbol of happiness. Didn’t you ever pick dandelions as a kid?”
His head shakes, lips thin. “I can’t say that I have.”
“It’s said to carry wishes. You blow the seeds, and they fly to the sky, bringing your dreams with them.” I bring the little white flower to my mouth, close my eyes, and blow.
I hope this isn’t goodbye.
“What did you wish for?”
“I can’t tell you that.” I take one last breath, hoping for a future. Hoping for more with Cain. “I should get going.”
My emotions are swirling inside me a million miles a minute, and it’s time to leave.
We don’t clean up the mess. Apparently, his staff will do that. Instead, he leads me back to the car, and silently, we drive to the main building.
When he pulls up, we both get out of the car.
His mood has grown solemn, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Does he want to see me again? Enough with being cautious, I decide to just ask. It’s time to put myself out there.
“Will I see you again?” I ask.
“I’d like that.”
But his words don’t make me feel any better, nor do they calm my confusion.
I can read between the lines that it’s an empty promise. With this large scope of a project, he probably has no plans on being in NYC anytime soon. Couple that with the fact that he doesn’t make any plans here and now with me.
Cain’s brow furrows, and he stares at me intently. Then he must realize something, like the fact that I’m spiraling, because he leans forward and places a kiss on my lips.
“We will see each other again.”
He doesn’t say when, but it’s enough to placate me.
He moves away from the car, and with that, he’s stalking away.
I get in the driver’s seat and watch him. I can’t pull my eyes away as he leaves, and then once I pull the car out and head through the gates, I notice something odd . . . something wet on my cheek. A tear.
18
Layla
“Are you ever coming back to the office?” Mara says through the line. I have my phone sitting next to me on speaker again as my fingers type on my computer.
Halting my movements, I think about her question. “Of course, I’m coming back. I’m just busy.”
“You know you can be busy in the office like the rest of us.” She snickers at me.
“Mara,” I mockingly scold, removing my hands from the keyboard.
“What’s really going on?” Her question has me pushing my chair back from my desk, taking stock of my appearance.
I haven’t showered in days. I’m a mess, and the smell emanating off me . . .
“I’m in article crisis mode,” I say to her by way of an excuse.
“Got it. Basically, you’re not fit for company.”
Patting my hair, I’m met with a bird’s nest of a mess. “That’s putting it lightly.”
“How bad do you smell?” She laughs.
“I smell like a garbage dump, if you must know.”
“And this is because of the article . . .” She trails off, waiting for me to confess the real reason for my stench.
“Yes. What else would be the reason?” My voice is nonchalant, but I don’t know if I’m fooling anyone. I’m certainly not fooling myself.
She sighs so loud it’s almost like she’s here in the room. “Talk to me.”
What am I supposed to say? That this has nothing to do with the damn article and everything to do with the stupid man I haven’t heard from in over a week?
I’m not sure what I expected when I left, but it certainly wasn’t radio silence.
The worst part is that I’ve been a wreck since I’ve been home. It’s embarrassing. No one needs to see me like this.