Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
He tried a smile, but the edges of it were fragile. “Not for tonight anyway.”
I moved forward, letting my lips brush against his. Not ever, I thought, but I kept the words to myself.
Sawyer melted against me, deepening the kiss. I threaded my fingers through his hair. “Maybe we should find a place less public to continue this conversation,” I growled against his mouth.
“Mmmmm,” he hummed in agreement before wrenching himself back. “Wait,” he panted, practically out of breath. I moved toward him, and he held out a hand to stop me. “I promised Karlie I’d tap the new kegs and help get dinner service started. It will only be a couple of hours, I promise. Then the rest of the night is yours.”
There was no way I could argue with him. I glanced through the windows at the stack of boxes still sitting by the table where we’d been working. Him being gone would give me a chance to finish things up before leaving in the morning. “Fine,” I reluctantly agreed. “But hurry back.”
“Oh, I will,” he said, leaning in for a kiss and reaching a hand around to squeeze my ass in a promise. I stood outside on the patio, watching as he jogged through the lobby, tossing a wave to Ana Lucia, who’d just arrived to take over behind the counter before heading out into the parking lot.
I was about to follow behind when my phone buzzed with a text.
Oscar: OMFG, you got back together with him and didn’t tell me? WTF?
I blinked, having no earthly idea what he was talking about.
James: ???
Oscar: Richard is all over social media right now posting pics of the two of you acting like you’re back together. I thought you were on the Cape?
I frowned. What the hell?
James: I am.
Oscar: Well, are you back together with him or not?
James: Hell no. You know me better than that.
Oscar: True. After you broke up with me I tried for months to get you to take me back but when you’ve made up your mind, there’s no budging you.
James: First of all, you broke up with me.
Oscar: Biggest mistake of my life.
James: No it wasn’t and you know it. I am WAAAY too boring and normal for you.
Oscar: Hmmm. You have a point.
James: Second of all, you never once tried to get me back. If I recall, you jetted off to the Maldives afterward and spent a month living in an above water villa with Hugo or Fabian.
Oscar: Wait, this is starting to come back to me…. I believe it was both of them.
James: That sounds about right.
Oscar: But it was only to soothe my poor broken heart, darling!
James: I’m sure.
Oscar: So you and Richard aren’t back together? Does that mean you’re available and mine for the taking?
James: Richard and I aren’t back together.
Oscar: I notice you didn’t answer the second half of that question…
I paused, squeezing my eyes closed for a moment before answering.
James: There’s no one.
Oscar: You’re lying. You hesitated too long before replying.
I ground my teeth.
James: Okay, maybe there’s someone but it’s not going to work so it doesn’t matter.
Oscar: Why isn’t it going to work?
James: It’s complicated.
Oscar: Then uncomplicate it.
James: It’s not that easy.
Oscar: As you know, I’ve been in several relationships that have not worked out…
I resisted the urge to respond that that was an understatement. Oscar was the king of ex-boyfriends.
Oscar: and I’ve learned one very important lesson that held true in each and every one: it’s never easy if both sides don’t want the same thing. But if you both want the same thing — if you both want to be together — you’ll find a way to make it happen.
James: I’m not sure that’s possible here.
Oscar: Then you don’t want it enough.
I started to type a response, but before I could hit Send, he messaged again.
Oscar: Don’t argue with me. I’m right, as always.
James: You’re a good friend, Oscar.
Oscar: I know. Now go fix your love life before it gets as fucked up as mine is. That’s an order!
Bracing myself, I switched over to my Instagram app and scrolled to Richard’s account. There were half a dozen new photos in the last two days. One was a picture of us from a trip to Maine with a caption that read, “Can’t wait to go back here with you!” Richard was laughing and I was leaning over to kiss his cheek. The deep-green trees behind us brought back memories of the luxury cabin we’d rented. I’d loved the seclusion and peaceful breezes while Richard had spent most of the weekend complaining about the Wi-Fi not working and cell reception being too spotty to check his email.
He’d also posted a photo of me asleep on the sofa with a caption saying I’d fallen asleep a few nights ago while we were watching the latest season of one of his favorite reality shows. Again, a complete lie. I’d had the flu two winters ago when this photo was taken. Richard had been pissed his father had still hounded me about work even while I had a high temperature. He’d taken the photo to send to his parents along with a plea to leave me alone and let me recover.