Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
He’s not complaining. He’s simply laying himself bare.
Something in me softens. I want to wrap my arms around him and tell him he should just be himself and that none of this image stuff matters. But we live in a world of reputation and perception. We work in that world. We don’t have the luxury of shying away from the public. “It can be hard and uncomfortable,” I say gently, wanting him to know I understand where he’s coming from. “But for what it’s worth, you’re doing a great job. I don’t think anyone expected you to transform overnight or to become somebody who loves that stuff. I know I didn’t expect that.”
He sinks into the couch, blowing out a breath like that eases his mind somewhat but perhaps not completely, since he adds, “But you are good at it. You’re good at all of this. And I want you to know how much it means to me. If it wasn’t for you, I probably would’ve gone full beast in Beauty and the Beast today. And I mean the bellowing beast,” he says with a wry grin, and it’s like he’s waiting for me to laugh, but with that comment I’m even more confused by this gift. Is it a professional gift or a personal one? I turn the card over a few times, wondering if it’s a thank you for my hard work, or if it’s…more?
There’s no room in your professional life for more. “You didn’t have to do this,” I say of the gift, since that’s the easiest reply to give.
He sits up straighter. “I wanted to. I wanted you to have something you like,” he says, then goes quiet, perhaps waiting for me to look at him again in the silence. And I do because I’m too drawn to him. When our gazes connect, he says, “The only thing on my mind during the event was you. All I could think about was you. I was so fucking worried you’d think I was back together with Lyra.”
You. All I could think about was you.
Those words wrap around me, like an embrace from a lover. Like a whispered confession. Like everything I secretly wanted to hear. My chest swells with emotion. I close my eyes because it’s all too much tonight. All these feelings I never wanted to have for him are bubbling up, overwhelming me. I hardly know what to do with them—whether to give them voice or keep them safe, locked up inside me.
Another question I don’t have the answer to.
His strong hand cups my chin, his touch tender. My eyes fly open, and he’s looking at me with so much longing in his blue eyes. “The whole time I was there, the only thing that mattered was what you thought. I know what everyone else was saying. They were acting like I’d gotten back together with her. They were trying to create this story that she was there to support me. But all I cared about was what you thought. You, Everly. Just you.”
My heart pounds mercilessly against my rib cage, fighting to get into his arms. It’s such a lovely, gorgeous admission and such a dangerous one too. And I hate that I love it so much. But he’s cracking open his heart. I can try to open some of mine. “I honestly wasn’t sure what to think. And I didn’t want everything we’d worked for to fall apart. I felt so much pressure. I feel all this pressure every day at work—pressure I put on myself. Pressure they put on me. It’s good pressure, mostly. But it’s still pressure, and I really needed the event to go well. Then, out of nowhere she appeared, and everything went off the rails. The press lost their mind, and she became the story—not everything we were trying to build. And even though I felt so unsteady, I had to ignore all these feelings inside me and…right the ship somehow. I had to find a way to put everything back in order. It’s silly but I felt like I was the only one who could do it. I wouldn’t let it fall apart,” I say, taking a small step closer as I speak the truth on all those fronts. As I let him in.
“And you did it. You’re a fucking goddess. But you have to know why I’m so bad at pretending in front of the media. I couldn’t think about the event, not even the dogs, not the script you gave me. All I could think about was you. And whatever it is that you’re doing to me…that I just can’t stop,” he says, and this feels so unreal. Like it’s happening to someone else in another world, in another story. Someone who has a different job that isn’t hemmed in by so many unwritten rules.