Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Maggie came bounding in from outside, her tail wagging maniacally as I scratched her behind the ears.
“I’m not laughing,” I told him truthfully.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered.
“I can’t wait for you to get here. To meet Rowan,” I told him excitedly, being sure to keep my voice down so it didn’t carry outside. “I think he’s it. The real thing. My guy.” I never would’ve said this to anyone else. Not even Fiona. Not this soon, at least. But I needed to bounce it off Ansel.
“I’m sure he is,” Ansel responded.
“It’s too soon for me to know that,” I argued with him.
“It’s not too soon when you know,” he countered. “I know our life hasn’t exactly given you good reason to believe that good things happen, that the future is something to look forward to. I know it’s hard to trust your instincts when your traumas are polluting them. But believe it, honey. It’s time to shed old skin. Old habits.”
I breathed in his words. He was right. We’d been dragging our pasts along with us for long enough. He was coming out the other side, finally getting his life together and getting away from Chicago.
“Does she know?” I asked, my body tensing at the thought of her.
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “Not yet.”
“She’s going to try and stop you,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“She can try.” My brother’s voice was strong. Resolute.
I was still uneasy at the thought of my mother trying to find a way to get her hooks back in, but I had to trust this. Him.
“Things are going to work out for the both of us,” Ansel reassured me. “I promise.”
“I’ll see you at the end of the month,” I said, even though we’d definitely be talking before then. We spoke almost every day, even if it was just sending silly videos to each other.
“You bet your ass you will.” I could hear his smile through the phone.
“Love you,” I whispered.
“And I love you more,” he repeated the phrase we’d uttered all our lives.
My brother’s words echoed in my ears as I placed the phone down on the counter then walked outside to where the men were still working.
“How do you guys feel about pizza for dinner?”
“I’m down!” Kip replied immediately. “I’ll eat anything but pineapple. That shit does not belong on pizza.”
I nodded. “Agree with you on that one.”
I looked at Rowan who was watching me with amusement. He was likely thinking back to his first night here, when I’d acted like ordering pizza was akin to planning a murder.
“I’m trying something new,” I told him in response to the questioning look he gave me.
He just flashed me his pearly whites. “Didn’t say a word.”
I shook my head. “Do you have any pizza preference?”
“Nope. Whatever you want, cupcake.”
A surge of desire shot through me. I didn’t know how he did it, but he was making ordering pizza somehow sexual.
I really wanted to do things to him. Wanted him to do things to me. But he was here with his best friend, building my greenhouse. So, I went inside and ordered pizza instead.
Chapter
Fifteen
Recipe: Chocolate-Hazelnut Galette des Rois
From ‘Dessert Person’
Fiona ate with us. I called to invite her over for dinner, to watch the men building, and maybe because I had some matchmaking thoughts about my best friend and Rowan’s best friend.
Fiona didn’t exactly have a type, but Kip was the kind of man who appealed to everyone.
I wanted my friend to be happy. Not that she wasn’t already. Nor did she need a man to define her happiness, but in the time I’d known her, she hadn’t had a serious relationship. Despite her constant smile and her easy demeanor, there was something dark there, something chasing her. Something that she hadn’t shared with me. But I knew it was there because like knew like. I hadn’t pressed her. Wouldn’t press her. She would tell me if and when she was ready. Or she’d let it stay buried and keep trying to make a life here.
I selfishly wanted that life to be permanent.
This was the longest time she’d been in one place, her family a world away. Her visa wouldn’t last forever. Romance, a real, true love, meant roots.
But Fiona sensed my intentions once the pizza was consumed and I’d served a French chocolate tart for dessert—I was still me and couldn’t have guests without serving dessert. We’d all settled in the living room with beer and wine, music playing from my speaker system, while Maggie napped happily on the rug.
“Just to be clear,” Fiona announced, her narrowed eyes focused on Kip. “This is not going to be a thing.” She waved her arms between them first, then at our little group in general. “We’re not in some fucking Hallmark movie or CW show. This isn’t where two best friends fall for the other two best friends.” Her gaze then turned to me and Rowan. “You two are cute as fuck, I get that. You’re a Hallmark movie all on your own. But I am not interested in him.” She pointed her finger at Kip.