Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 142976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 477(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 477(@300wpm)
She took it from him and turned it over in her hands, taking in the finer details.
“It’s beautiful, thank you.”
“I’ll feel better knowing you’re wearing it,” he informed her, the gruffness in his voice betraying his discomfort.
She nodded and attempted to put it on her left wrist, fumbling with the clasp.
“Please… allow me.” He gently moved her hand aside and made quick work out of fastening the clasp, before turning her wrist to look at the bracelet.
Fern wasn’t checking out the bracelet though, she was watching him and she caught the brief flare of relief in his eyes as he ran his thumb over the face of the bracelet.
He smiled, the slightest lift of his lips and—seemingly without thought—brought her hand to his mouth to drop a kiss on her knuckles.
“Much better,” he muttered, voice teeming with satisfaction.
There was a brief, tense silence, during which he continued to hold her hand.
“Will you—”
“What did y—”
They spoke simultaneously and then laughed awkwardly.
“You first,” he invited graciously.
He lowered her hand back to her lap with exquisite tenderness and put some distance between them. He angled his body toward hers—giving her his undivided attention—and extended an arm along the back of the sofa while resting his left ankle on his right knee.
The hand on the back of the sofa was perilously close to her shoulder, and Fern was hyperaware of the fact that she was wearing a spaghetti strap top, which left her shoulders and back mostly bare.
“I-I was going to ask if you’d be available to join me for my meeting with Cyrus Bradford”—her attorney—“tomorrow afternoon. He says he has news,” she said, discomfited by the hoarse tone in her voice, fearing that it revealed too much of her inner tension.
His eyes sparked in interest and he raised his brows before asking in a speculative voice, “What news?”
“Well, if I knew that, I’d have led with it, wouldn’t I?” She rolled her eyes, unable to keep the acerbic note from her voice, and he rewarded her with a rusty chuckle.
“So scathing, Fern. Granted it was a dumb question, but I’ve had a long day and I’m not quite firing on all cylinders.” She was immediately contrite when he stifled a yawn. She knew he’d been putting in a lot of extra hours while rearranging his life and schedule thanks to their semi-permanent move to Cape Town.
She quickly stifled that brief flare of guilt as she reminded herself that he’d chosen to join her here. So, this was an inconvenience of his own making.
The silence stretched on for a beat too long while Cade clearly waited for an apology that was not forthcoming.
He grinned then. An unexpected, full on—teeth and all, dimples a-blinking—proper grin. And she was mesmerized by its astonishing beauty.
“Well done, sweetheart,” he murmured in what sounded like sincere admiration “Not too long ago you would have allowed me to goad you into apologizing.”
His words took a second to sink in, but when they did all the warm pleasure she felt at his smile faded and her brows slammed together in irritation.
“I’ve done nothing to apologize for.”
“You haven’t,” he agreed and that easy assent annoyed her even further.
“So, can you join me tomorrow or not?” She flung the question down like a gauntlet.
“Just let me know when and I’ll have Mitch shuffle some stuff around to accommodate it.”
She nearly said something about not wanting to inconvenience him, but bit back the words. He was watching her face closely and clearly knew her better than she realized because he chuckled quietly, before saying almost to himself, “Good girl.”
Aah, hell.
Those two words, in that helplessly admiring voice, were her undoing. She backslid and allowed herself to bask—for only the very briefest of moments—in the warmth of his approval.
“What were you going to ask me earlier?” she queried.
“Just wanted to know what you did today.”
“The usual. Oh, and I finished my late entrance application to UCT,” she told him. Her days were pretty samey at the moment. She did some yoga, read every bit of literature she could find on occupational therapy, swam a few laps. The pool wasn’t very big, but since walking up and down the steep hill alone had been strictly forbidden—and pretty much ruled out by her own pregnant body—by Cade, it was the best she could do for exercise. She tried to keep busy, but honestly, when Cade wasn’t around, she often found herself bored and frustrated. She felt like she was stuck in a holding pattern, waiting for her real life to finally begin.
She’d applied to several local universities, aiming for a late acceptance to do a part time course in occupational therapy over the next few years. She hoped that because it was part time, her chance of acceptance would be higher. But she wasn’t too optimistic.
“That’s good news,” Cade said, his voice admiring. “If you need help with… with the uh baby, I’d be willing to uhm step up. And babysit. And stuff.”