Dear Bridget, I Want You Read online Penelope Ward, Vi Keeland

Categories Genre: Chick Lit, Contemporary, Erotic, Funny, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
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“Ah. I’ve never been there. Always meant to go but never got around to it. What is it like?”

“It’s awesome. Picture like a hundred bonfires on the surface of the river in the middle of downtown. There’s music and performances. You really should see it sometime.”

“Do you take all your dates there?”

“It’s not always in season.”

I’d always hoped to go with Ben.

“Well, you’d better go, or you’ll be late.”

He lingered at the doorway for a bit before he said, “Have a good night, Bridget.”

“You, too.”

As I stared out from the kitchen at the sun setting in my backyard, I once again felt myself getting teary-eyed. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly why I was so emotional tonight. Was it because I missed Ben? Or was it because my jealousy over Simon’s date meant that I was finally starting to move on? I wasn’t sure, but I somehow felt happy, hopeful, and terribly sad all at the same time.

Brianna and I strolled along the river walk surrounded by the flames of WaterFire. It was a breezy May evening in Providence, and her long, black hair was blowing around into her face. At one point, I stopped to take some video footage of the flickering lights before we continued walking.

As she was talking my ear off, I was zoning out. I couldn’t stop thinking about Bridget, about the sadness in her eyes earlier when we were talking about her husband. I couldn’t imagine having to endure that kind of tragedy at such a young age. I also couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that I had refused her offer to have tea. Just when she finally seemed to be warming up to me, I had to leave.

Brianna was only twenty-three and definitely not looking for anything serious. It was exactly why I’d pursued her. We’d had sex one time, and while it was good, I couldn’t help wanting to find a way to get out of going back to her apartment tonight. I just wasn’t into being with her right now, and I couldn’t figure out why.

I didn’t want to admit that maybe it had something to do with a certain widow, because that would have been dangerous. As curious as I was about Bridget Valentine, I couldn’t do anything more than just fancy her. She was someone’s mum, for Christ’s sake. You don’t mess with that. I’d be leaving town in a matter of months when my residency ended. So, the only women safe enough to date were those I was certain weren’t looking for anything more than a casual fling.

Brianna turned to me. “Dr. Hogue, did you even hear what I said?”

“Huh?”

She liked calling me Dr. Hogue instead of Simon. It might have been cute while we were screwing, but it was starting to annoy me.

She continued, “I was saying we should try this new bar that opened on Wickenden. It’s right around the corner from my apartment.”

I knew she assumed I’d be going back to her place. But I really didn’t want to.

“Actually, I have an early morning appointment. So, unfortunately, I have to head back to my apartment.”

“Aw, you suck, Dr. Hogue.” She giggled. “Just kidding…I still love you,” she teased as she wrapped her arms around my neck and reached up to kiss me.

After dropping Brianna off at the bar where she planned to meet up with some friends, I drove over the bridge back to our sleepy suburb.

As I passed the white church with its high steeple near the center of town, I was reminded of how nice it was to be able to escape the city yet still live close enough to enjoy it when I wanted. We lived on a peninsula and were surrounded by water.

When I pulled into the driveway, I noticed that Bridget’s living room light was still on. Although I knew she liked her privacy, I wondered if she might be up for a late tea. I could show her the videos of WaterFire I’d taken. After all, if I was being honest, I took that footage for her, because she said she’d never had the chance to go.

I’d had a bag of leftover chicken dinner sitting on the passenger seat. It was lined in aluminum to keep the food warm and had roosters all over the exterior of the bag. The restaurant we’d gone to was known for serving fifty different varieties of chicken. The meal was delicious, but they’d given me way too much food. Maybe she would want some.

Ringing the doorbell might have woken Brendan, so I opted not to.

While I had a key to the entrance of my studio apartment, I didn’t have a key to the main house. Even though I could access Bridget’s kitchen from a set of stairs in my space, I opted to knock on her window.


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