Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I tightened my arms across my chest. “I hate this.” I closed my eyes for a brief moment, and that’s when the tears started. “I can’t lose you, okay? I don’t want to feel that agony again. I’m so damn happy, and I never want to not be happy again.”
“I’m happy too, baby. This is the only time I’ve ever been happy—when I found you.”
My eyes softened, just the way they always did when he said something like that.
“Two more times.” His massive shoulders tensed with the words. “That’s it.”
Getting upset wouldn’t change what was about to happen. I had to tuck my chin and prepare for the hit. A part of me wished someone would put me in a coma until he came back, just so I wouldn’t have to suffer the stress.
“Then I’ll never leave again.”
“Okay…”
He crossed the distance between us and moved his palms up my cheeks until his fingertips reached my hair. He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at him. Instead of kissing me, he gazed into my eyes with the love that thudded deep in his look. His thumb brushed across my bottom lip, and he sighed as he looked down at me. “Where are you going to stay?”
“I don’t know…probably here. I stayed here alone when you were gone.”
His eyes shone with a hint of approval. “You’ll be safe here. Max will around if you need anything.”
“Alright.”
He bent his neck down and gave me a soft kiss on the lips. “I need to make love to you before I go.”
“I didn’t get morning sex today…”
He scooped me up in his powerful arms and cradled me against his chest. “You’ll get it now.”
After Bones was gone, I went back to bed to cry into the sheets. The bed smelled like him, so it was easier to pretend he was still there. My imagination ran wild, and I thought about things I didn’t want to think about…like him being shot between the eyes.
I lay there for a few hours, forgetting about work and the life waiting for me outside the front door. If I stayed in bed until he returned, time would only move more slowly. I was making myself suffer needlessly instead of breathing fresh air and being productive. I reminded myself he only had two missions left. Once they were completed, I would never have to feel this anguish again. We could live a peaceful life, the one we promised to each other. We would find a house close to my parents, get married, and raise a family.
I finally had the courage to go down to the gallery and get some work done. I wasn’t in the mood to paint, so I sat behind the counter and waited for customers to walk inside. Sometimes I would get foot traffic, but most of the time, I was addressing emails from current clients. They contacted me when they wanted to decorate their second home or redo their living room. They already had a few of my paintings, and once they became fans, they preferred to contact me when they wanted something new. Most of the time, tourists only came inside to see Italian craftsmanship. That was fine with me because it was always nice to meet new people and ask how they felt about Florence.
In the late afternoon, my father walked inside.
I wasn’t the least bit surprised. I’d assumed he would show his face after Bones left. I was sure he knew everything about it and wanted to check up on me. I left the chair behind the desk and came around to greet him. “I’m fine.” I blurted out the phrase without bothering with a hello.
He stopped in front of me, a foot taller than me with dark Tuscan skin. He wore the same affection in his eyes, just as he wore his heart on his sleeve. His entire life was devoted to me and Conway; he was a lot more than just a parent. His intelligent eyes scanned mine, seeing the despair written all over my face. “It’s okay if you’re not fine, tesoro. I know this is difficult for you.”
I shrugged it off, trying to be strong like Bones asked me to be. “Just trying to keep busy…”
He glanced around the gallery, seeing that it was completely empty. “How’s that going?”
“It’s been a pretty slow day…too hot.”
He examined the new paintings I had on display, pausing in front of each one to take it in. My father wasn’t an artistic person, but his natural curiosity for everything I did made him seem like an art collector. “This one is my favorite in the batch.” He pointed to an image of a sunset, one Bones and I had seen about a week ago.
“Thanks.”
He walked back to me, his hands sliding into his pockets. “I always want to buy your paintings, but then I realize I would be hogging all of your work…and you wouldn’t have any other clients.”