Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 70037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“Come on, LeFou. Time to explore is over,” I say in his direction, pulling his attention away from the pile of clothes in the corner of the room he’s sniffing at. His fluffy white head turns, and I pat the bed. “Come on. It’s time to sleep.” He runs toward me, then jumps up onto the bed and licks my face. “Sleep.” I rub the top of his head with one hand, then reach over to turn out the lamp. Once the room is plunged into darkness, he burrows under the covers, settles in against my stomach, and falls asleep. And after an hour of replaying the sound of Georgia saying Gaston’s name and reminding myself that he’s never given me a reason to be jealous, I thankfully am able to fall asleep.
Suggestion 10
DON’T BE AFRAID TO ADD A LITTLE COLOR TO HIS LIFE
CHRISSIE
Completely sated and sprawled out half on top of Gaston, I listen to his heartbeat while my fingers scribble random patterns along his rib cage. It’s been two weeks since the night I attempted to stay at his place, and since then, we’ve fallen into a routine. When I get home from work, he brings LeFou to me, and we have dinner or just spend a few hours together before he has to leave. And when he gets home in the morning, we spend a couple more hours, usually in bed, before I have to get up. It never feels like enough time, but I still enjoy every second of it.
“What’s your plan for Christmas Day?” I ask Gaston as I lazily lift my cheek off his bare chest to look at him.
“I’ll spend the morning at home, then go to Luke’s around three or four for dinner. What about you? Are you still planning on going to your mom’s?”
“Yeah, I’ll go over in the afternoon. She told me she’s already got most of the groceries and that she wants to cook for me this year, so I won’t have to be there so early.”
“That’s good news, baby.”
“Yeah.” It is good. My mom has seemed more like herself the last few times we’ve spoken, and her making an effort with Christmas is a huge step, especially after the way last year ended.
“How about you stay with me Christmas Eve, and we spend Christmas morning together?” he asks, and I melt into him.
“How about you stay with me, since you don’t have a tree, and I’ll make you my cream cheese–stuffed french toast?”
“Sounds good.” He smiles while running his finger along the edge of my hairline. “My mom’s coming in for New Year’s, and I’d like you to meet her while she’s here.”
My heart starts to beat a little faster. Making plans to see each other on Christmas and him wanting me to meet his mom tell me he’s in just as deep as I am. He’s so different from all the other men I’ve dated. He’s honest, which makes me feel secure; I never have to question what he means when he says or does something, because he tells it like it is. If he were any other guy, I’d be questioning how quickly things are progressing between us, but with him this just feels right.
“I’d like that,” I say, and he looks pleased with my response. “My brother and his boyfriend are flying in to ring in the New Year with me, so I’m having a small gathering at my place. There’s not going to be a lot of people, but my best friend and her husband are coming. I’ll have food and drinks. I’d love you to be there, and your mom is welcome to come.”
“I work that night, but maybe we can split things up. You can come to the club, hang in VIP with your people for a few hours, and then I’ll come back with you, and we can ring in the New Year before I go back to work.”
“I like that idea. Let me just talk to Leah and my brother and see what they say.”
“Is your mom going to be here for New Year’s Eve?”
“I’m not sure. I mentioned it to her, but she didn’t say yes or no.”
“I’d like to meet her sometime,” he says, and my stomach drops.
I still haven’t told my mom about him. I guess I wanted to be sure she was actually moving on with her life before I told her about Gus. I didn’t want her negativity tainting what we’re building, but I do plan—if all goes well on Christmas—to tell her about him then.
“I’m guessing from the look on your face she doesn’t know about me,” he says casually, and he doesn’t look mad, just reflective.
“It’s really creepy that you can read me so easily.”
“Talk to me,” he orders, leaving no room for argument.