Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“You need food,” I say, pouring her some coffee. “Come on, you barely eat.”
“What’s with the sudden interest in how much I’m eating?” She narrows her eyes, glaring at me. “If I weren’t so tired, I’d be pretty pissed right now.”
“I’ve always been interested,” I say, putting a hand on her thigh, trying to be calming. “I’m interested in everything you do.”
“That’s not coming off the way you think.” She brushes my hand away. “I’m not hungry.” Then she rolls over, turning her back to me.
I stare at her for a long moment, keeping my temper in check, before ripping off the blankets. “Time to get up. I made all this myself.”
“Nolan.” She looks annoyed now. “I told you, I want to sleep.”
“And I told you, I want you to eat. Come on, have breakfast with me.” I sip the coffee. “It’s good.”
“I’m not interested. Why are you being a weird control freak all of a sudden?”
“I’ve always been a control freak.” I shift slightly, facing her. “I’m trying to give you space. I’m trying to approach you with a light touch. But maybe that’s the wrong method.”
“I’m sorry, what now? Are you talking about me like I’m an unruly farm animal?”
“I wouldn’t say it like that.”
She grunts, sitting up straight. “Nolan Crowley, if you don’t get the hell out of here—”
“You’re hiding something from me.” I say it sharply and it makes her jaw click shut. She takes several deep breaths, and I expect her to be pissed—but instead, she only gets out of bed, walks into the bathroom, and slams the door.
Well, shit. If that’s not confirmation, I don’t know what is.
I remain sitting on the bed. I drink the coffee and eat the toast. This whole breakfast thing was supposed to be my way of putting her in a good mood before I started the questioning, but she’s so damn stubborn that I lost my temper and ruined it.
Now I doubt I’ll get anywhere today.
But I’m also stubborn, and I’m not letting it drop now that I’ve said it out loud.
“You can’t hide in there forever,” I call out. No response. “You have to go into work.”
“Roger can handle it.” Her reply is muffled. “The tub in here is comfortable.”
“Keely.” I stand and walk to the door, but I don’t open it. Not yet. “You don’t have to tell me everything. But at least say if it’s going to be a problem.”
Again, no answer, and the silence feels painful.
“Tell me you aren’t in trouble at least.”
Another silence.
I’m just about ready to break down this fucking door.
“This has been bothering you since we got married,” I say, thinking back to the beginning. “Since the second we landed in Vegas, since I walked into your shop, you’ve been hiding something. I’ve been too busy falling for you to notice, but—”
The door slams open suddenly. She stands there, staring at me with wide eyes, her mouth open, still sleep-bitten and beautiful. She looks pissed. “You’re what?” she says.
“I’m worried, and if you’re in trouble—”
“No, the other thing. You said you’re falling for me.”
I cock my head. “I thought that was obvious.”
“No, that’s not obvious, you asshole.” Her anger deepens. “Why the hell are you saying that now?”
“I married you. I’m making expensive financial deals with you. I’ve been talking about family, babies, moving to the fucking suburbs. Yes, Keely, I’m falling for you, I’m falling fucking hard.”
“That doesn’t exactly scream out love,” she says, throwing up her hands. “You blackmailed me. You drew up a damn contract. You’re paying me! My god, how disconnected from the real world are you? How can you really think this is love?”
“It isn’t hard to imagine me and you having something good together.” I touch my lips with my fingers. “You know how I feel about you. Stop acting like this is a surprise.”
She sighs, putting her face in one hand. Some of her anger drains away. “You’ve never said it before.”
“I didn’t know I had to.”
“Maybe I wasn’t sure.” She hesitates, looking at me. I’ve never seen her looking so vulnerable before. “But it doesn’t change anything. I’m divorcing you in a few months.”
“I know. You keep telling me.” I try not to smile. I don’t want to rile her up again.
“But you refuse to believe it.”
“What are you hiding, Keely?”
She brushes past me, over to the breakfast tray, and chews on a bacon strip. “This is good,” she mutters, eating another. “What if I said I don’t want to tell you? But it’s not something you can fix, and not something that matters right now?”
“Then I’d say that’s ominous as fuck.”
“You are capable of trust, right? No, don’t give me some sarcastic answer. Be honest.”
“Yes, Keely, I’m capable of trust.” I move closer. “But you’re my wife. You’re not an employee doing some menial chore. I can’t simply turn my back and hope for the best. You are everything.”