Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 149606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 499(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 499(@300wpm)
I laugh. “I don’t think I want to go that far. I just can’t eat it without feeling horrible.”
He touches my hand. “I want you to feel comfortable. I know I sound like a broken record. I gotta admit, I’m confused most of the time too. I never know what’s right or wrong, what you’re gonna like or not like.”
I feel bad for him. He truly does try so very hard. None of this is easy on him, either, and I need to remember that.
“The best way I can explain it is that it kinda feels like you’re a widower. And I’m living in the house you shared with her, and you’re feeding me her favorite food, and trying to recreate memories and putting me in all her places.”
His handsome face morphs into a sort of anguished cringe. And guilt. Eyes wide, head shaking slowly back and forth.
“Shit. I don’t want you to feel that way.”
“I’m sorry.” I soften my voice. “I don’t want you to feel bad. You’re trying so hard to make me happy and help me remember. Part of me appreciates that more than I can say, but then another part of me feels like I’m not good enough.”
“You are good enough. I don’t know how to make this better. We can sell the house—get something new with no history attached to it. That’d be a start.”
“No…let’s not do that. Maybe as a very last resort, but not now. I like the house. Your daughter lives right across the street. I don’t want to disrupt your lives anymore than I already have.”
“You’re not a disruption. Not at all.”
“I ruined our date,” I protest.
“Babe.” He takes both my hands in his. “That’s not true. We’re figuring out how to get through this together. We’re learning as we go, and I think as long as we’re patient and honest with each other, we’ll be okay.”
“Do you think so?”
“I do.”
Thank you, teen Ember, for picking a man who doesn’t run away.
“I know it sounds weird, but it’s like the more I start to like you, the more jealous I feel, even though it’s totally irrational.”
His mouth curves into the sexy grin that always makes my heart unexpectedly jump. “You like me?”
Warmth floods to my cheeks, and I look down at our hands with embarrassment before peeking back up at him. “I’m starting to. A lot more than I was expecting to.”
He leans closer and rests his forehead against mine. We close our eyes and breathe softly together, and I finally feel grounded.
I open my eyes to find him staring back.
“I like you too.” His deep voice resonates through every cell of my body. “This you. This beautiful, shy girl right here. No one else. Ever.”
I smile. “How long does ever last?”
His eyes fall closed, and he inhales a deep breath.
“For eternity.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“You’re the only girl I’m ever gonna love.”
“How long does ever last?”
“Eternity.”
“That’s not gonna be long enough…”
I was fifteen years old the first time I told Ember I loved her and would only, ever, love her.
Everything about that moment is etched into my memories. The pounding of my heart. Her timid smile. Her pink cheeks. The spark of hope in her eyes when she asked me how long ever would last.
I told her eternity, and I meant it.
Ember was shy when she was young. She blushed and giggled and hid behind her bangs when I tried to make eye contact. She was all kinds of adorable innocence. Vulnerable and honest. She intoxicated me. That girl was here with me tonight.
But I also saw glimpses of Ember as she was when she was older. Confident, reassuring me. Being a strong partner when I needed her.
I wish she could see that her old self is here. Not all the time, but in random moments. If there was a way for me to grab on to her and keep her here, I would. But she always disappears in the blink of an eye.
Three a.m. and I’m still wide awake. Thinking too much, as usual.
The pit of my gut aches when I turn to the empty side of the bed. I’d do anything to have her here next to me, not down the hall behind a closed door.
“I can’t believe it took us ten minutes to find a handicapped parking spot. Next time just park anywhere, and I’ll walk. Or you can piggyback me. I’m too old to waste this kind of time,” Gram says from the passenger seat. All five feet of her is in a tizzy.
“You can get groceries delivered right to your house now, ya know,” I tease before hopping out of the car and going around to open the door for her.
She grasps my hand, and I carefully help her out of the Cadillac that she refuses to give up, even though she hasn’t driven in years.