Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Yeah, that would suck.
A lot.
“Give it time,” Camilla said a little dumbly. “You’ll make more friends.”
She didn’t know what else to say.
August smiled. “It’s okay—sometimes one good friend is better than ten friends that aren’t so good.”
“That’s true.” Camilla grinned. “So, is that what we are, now?”
“Hmm, what?”
“Friends.”
August nodded. “Yep—that’s what we are.”
Awesome.
The bell rang through the speakers, and echoed over the grounds. Camilla glanced up with a sigh, and then over at her new friend. No doubt, August was still in the lower Academy which meant their lunch times and other breaks would likely be at different times.
That kinda sucked.
They still had the mornings, though.
“Same time tomorrow?” she asked.
August jumped down from the wall. “Same time tomorrow.”
Camilla hadn’t known it, then, but sometimes the best and most lasting friendships came in the most unexpected moments. It would be August and her family, who over the years, taught Camilla things that she probably never would have known otherwise. It was the start of not only a friendship between two teenage girls, but between families, too.
It would be August who Camilla always had to lean on when things were all going to shit in her life. It would be August who was there—a constant pillar of support. She never found judgement from her friend, and only ever found openness, and love.
She found her best friend sitting in her spot.
It all started with nothing more than hello.
Camilla never regretted choosing to sit down, and say hello. She only wished she had known August longer.
The Speech
A few feet away from their wedding party’s main table, Tommaso leaned back in his chair to watch the scene unfolding in front of him. Or rather, the way his new bride’s whole face lit up when her brother stepped in to ask her for a dance.
Hell.
Everyone had danced with Cam more than he had during their wedding reception. But frankly, more people had danced with him than she had, too. So was the way of a wedding with large families.
Not to mention, their kind of families. It just couldn’t be avoided, and since it was all about the respect of the matter, really, they didn’t refuse. Besides, as his father reminded him more than once over the last few hours—in fact, every single time Tom dared to complain that he wasn’t getting any time with his wife—soon enough, he would have Camilla all to himself.
His father had a point.
Tom was greatly looking forward to it.
With every new guest that came up to congratulate him and each task they had to complete—from giving a speech to cutting the cake—the minutes ticked by getting closer and closer to that magical one o’clock in the morning when he would finally be able to sneak his wife away to a hotel suite in the city before they jetted off early in the morning for a week-long honeymoon far, far away.
No mafia business.
No family.
Nothing but him and Cam.
Tom wanted that to happen.
Now.
But he had to wait.
So he did.
Forever his father’s good son—always the boss’s best set example. Tom didn’t know how to be anything different now, even when he wanted to be.
Cross stepped back from Cam as the song ended, but gave a quick shake of his head at an approaching man like he was stopping the guy from coming to ask for a dance of his own. Which made sense when Tommaso heard Camilla mutter, “These shoes are going to make me cut my feet off by the time I’m done tonight.”
“Sit,” Cross replied. “I’ll give you a few minutes to rest them.”
“Best brother ever.”
Cross grinned wide. “I try, Cam.”
Once Cam had stepped around the table and Cross shooed another guest away, the man came to grab the item sitting in front of Tom’s glass of whiskey. The microphone. While Cross hadn’t been in the wedding party—although Tom had been more than willing to make a spot for him, had he asked—he had still expected Cross to make time to ensure Camilla felt as special and loved as she should be on her wedding day.
He was her big brother, after all.
One of her very best friends.
It’s what they should do.
Cam sat down in the chair next to Tom’s with a sigh and a smile as Cross turned to face the rest of the room, one hand high with Tom’s glass of whiskey in hand. Not that it mattered, a server was already waiting with a replacement.
Like the man knew he would need to.
Had Cross planned something?
It wouldn’t surprise Tom at all.
“I regret my choice in shoes,” Camilla whined. “I wanted to dance more, but this is killing me.”
Tom frowned—he loved the shoes she picked to wear under her dress. All six inches of heel and white satin. They were going to make her legs look fantastic when he had her naked and bent over something later.