Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Zach barely lifted his head from his laptop, in the middle of a virtual shareholders meeting. “Move away from my wall, Costa. It’s a high-ceiling house. It’ll be a bitch to repaint.”
“Your wall is two different shades. I just noticed.” Beige and swan white.
“And you’re fifty shades of pussy-whipped.” On the other end of the study, Oliver engaged in his favorite hobby, sifting through his laptop for high-quality porn. “You look like someone killed your pet hamster.”
I paced the room. “I’m bored.”
“I would offer to entertain you the way your wife does, but my New Year’s resolution includes only fucking people I find attractive.”
The rug flattened beneath my bare feet. Back and forth. Again and again.
Zach groaned. “You’re giving me a headache, Costa.”
“Maybe it’s your two-shade wall.” I stopped, frowning out the window. My parents lived across the street from Zach. Sometimes, when I was here, I looked outside hoping to catch an ambulance rolling up the hill to my parents’ place, plucking my lifeless father from his bed. For a dying man, he seemed to be hanging in there. When was he going to appoint me as CEO?
“What’s the weather in Georgia this time of year?” I wondered aloud.
Zach snapped his laptop shut. “I don’t know, but if you don’t leave to find out, I’ll personally drag you there by the ear. Just admit defeat. You fell in love. With a minor.”
“Can we please normalize sexual relationships with women who are of age by law?” Oliver grumbled.
“No,” Zach and I answered in unison.
“She’s with her family.” The words shot out. Like I’d given it some thought. Had I given it some thought?
“You’re a part of her family now.” Oliver settled on a video of a housewife being pounded by both her husband and his brother. They were sharing the same hole. Even from my angle, all the way across the room, I could tell the idea might be hot, but the execution would likely send at least two out of three participants to the ER.
“What if she doesn’t want to see me?” Since when did I care?
“Then, at least you know where you stand.” Zach rose to his feet, advancing to the door. He flung it open, waiting by its side. “And whatever that place might be, it is far away from my fucking house. Goodbye, Costa.”
Returning to Chapel Falls sat somewhere on my to-do list above moving in with Oliver von Bismarck and below undergoing a pubic-hair transplant. Yet, here I was, on the doorstep of Dallas’s childhood home. It seemed fitting that I now did what I should have done before—held a bouquet hoping to receive the affection of the woman I’d chosen for myself.
At the sight of me, Shep shuffled two steps back, shoulders solidifying. “Dallas said you knew she was here.” He reared his head as if preparing for a slap. To be fair, the thought had occurred to me once or twice, but as his daughter pointed out, I shared the blame for what had happened.
“Clearly. Thus, here I am.”
He gathered the pathetic remains of his spine and inclined his head, deciding to put up a fight. “She’s having fun. Don’t ruin it for her.”
I shouldered past him, just as I had all those months ago. “I have no desire to ruin her fun.”
He followed me, still on edge. “Then, what brings you here?”
“I miss her.”
I couldn’t fault Shep for his shock. After all, even I couldn’t believe that I’d shown up. Turns out, there is no reason when it comes to love. It exists to destroy. Even logic.
I followed the church-bells laughter. The one I used to loathe and now, evidently, could not survive forty-eight hours without hearing. It came from the kitchen. Naturally. Shortbread’s favorite room in any house she entered, excluding libraries. Dread accompanied the anticipation swirling in my stomach. She was having fun without me, while I was incapable of doing the same without her.
I strode the length of the hall, then leaned against the kitchen doorframe, observing as Dallas, Franklin, and Natasha made an apple pie. Shortbread rolled out the stripes. Flour dusted her freckled nose and cheeks. Her eyes glittered with happiness as she swirled in her spot, noticing my presence for the first time.
Her lips parted. “Romeo? What are you doing here? Is everything okay back home? Is it Senior?”
Home. Is that really what my mansion is for you?
“Everything is fine. My father is still depressingly alive.” I trained my eyes on her, refusing to see Franklin and be reminded of the harsh words Dallas used to describe me. I had no idea if Shortbread made good apple pies, but she made darn perfect humble pies.
“What’s going on?” She rested the dough on the counter, approaching me. I placed the white roses in her hands. Her fist wrapped around them, a million questions dancing in her eyes.