Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 125866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
There were no words to explain how safe I felt with him, how whole.
“Well, I’ll do my best not to keep you out too late,” Kyle said.
“No, no,” I assured him, covering his hand on my leg. “We have a babysitter for the night. I’m happy to be here. I can sleep tomorrow.”
Even as I said it, it was through another yawn, which made Kyle chuckle. He folded my hand in his and lifted my knuckles to his lips, kissing them gently.
It was nice being on a date. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been on one. I loved the way Kyle opened my car door for me, how he draped my arm through his and led us into the restaurant where he’d booked us reservations. It was far nicer than anything I’d been to since living in Seattle, the kind of place that had a tasting menu and wine pairing.
We laughed all through it, talking about all the things we missed with each other’s lives. He told me more about his time at North Boston University and I told him about the early years of being Sebastian’s mom, of how my entire world had shifted when he was born.
When we were caught up on the past, the conversation slipped to the future, and though he didn’t bring up the proposal again, it was easy to see that’s where his mind was heading.
“Do you like your job?” he asked over dessert — a delicious key lime and graham cracker creation that made me feel like I was on vacation in Florida.
I shrugged. “It’s not bad. I like the flexibility it gives me.”
“But you don’t love it?”
“It’s far from my dream job, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What is your dream job?”
I smiled, twirling my fork in the whipped cream on my plate. “To write.”
When I peeked up at him, his smile was genuine and soft, his eyes searching mine.
When the bill was paid and the valet pulled our car around, Kyle held the door for me again, chuckling a little when I slid in with yet another yawn taking over me. I couldn’t help it. Maybe it was all the excitement from the morning, or maybe it was the ridiculous client I’d shown houses to all day who’d been nothing less than a pain in my ass — but I was exhausted.
“I think it’s time we get you home,” Kyle said when he slid into the driver seat.
I could think of many reasons why I was happy about his decision, and none of them had to do with me being ready for bed.
But instead of driving the way toward my house, he took the highway the opposite direction.
“Um… I think you’re lost,” I commented with a grin.
He just smirked. “One quick pit stop.”
Twenty-five minutes later, we pulled up to a gorgeous home on Puget Sound — one I’d shown him just a few days prior. I didn’t need it to be daylight for me to remember how stunning it was — the expansive windows showcasing the breathtaking view of the private beach and the water, the lush garden landscaping, the veranda that transported indoor living space to outdoor seamlessly, the cozy fireplaces, the beautiful pool…
I’d shown it to him even though it didn’t quite meet his requirements, since it didn’t have nearly the number of bedrooms he asked for. But he’d taken it all in in quiet assessment like he really was considering it before telling me it wasn’t the one.
“What are we doing here?” I asked when he parked.
“You’ll see.”
With my hand in his, Kyle walked us around the house to the back gate, surprising me when he knew the code to unlock it.
“Are we trespassing?!” I hissed under my breath.
Kyle arched a brow at me. “I seem to remember a time when that wouldn’t have scared you.”
“We were teenagers! We didn’t have careers and children.”
Somehow, the way he grinned and continued walking made me feel like we were fine, even as my heart raced in my chest in warning. If the owners didn’t know we were here, if we really were trespassing, this would be grounds for me losing my real estate license.
And that somehow calmed my heart.
Because I knew Kyle wouldn’t risk that.
When we rounded past the beautiful garden to where the pool was, I gasped, stopping in my tracks and covering my mouth with both hands.
Soft yellow twinkle lights were strung from end to end, casting the pool in a gorgeous glow. Two bottles of champagne were on ice at the edge of the pool, and various flowers drew a trail from where we stood around every inch of that pool — ending at the champagne.
Lilies, carnations, and peonies.
All my favorites.
A familiar song played from a speaker somewhere, “Stay With Me” by Sam Smith.
The same song that had played from Kyle’s phone all those nights ago, when we were just two stupid kids in love.