Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Between finals and the holidays, time just hasn’t been on our side.
“You know the only thing that could make this shit even better is if my nut sack wasn’t frozen to my leg.”
On a goofy giggle, I pull back and give him a sweet look.
“How are you not fucking cold dressed like that, baby?”
I give my black, satin, bodycon mini dress a quick glance. “I kinda forgot I had it on.”
“Fifty bucks says you’re the only fucking one.”
Hearing a bit of jealousy in his voice has my stare finding his.
“Don’t hate how fucking sexy you look in this shit, but definitely fucking hate that everyone else got to see it.”
I give his shirt a small tug. “You’re the only one who matters to me, Ry.”
“Fucking same, Pres.” When my smirk grows wider, he adds, “However, I hate the idea of the woman I love freezing to death on some Titanic shit before we ever make it out of this piece of shit city so,” he swiftly slides out of his jacket, “put this on.”
I follow the instructions while asking, “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you guys were going up to the mountains for a family getaway.”
“We are,” he mumbles in unhappiness. “Everyone’s still asleep for another couple of hours. I decided to sleep on the plane and sneak out the second you got home to come see you.”
“Very sweet.”
“Romantic,” Ry playfully corrects, hands winding back around my waist. “It’s better image branding.”
“I bet it is.”
We share another round of small laughs before he releases a deep, uneasy sigh. “Shit’s getting rougher at home, especially now that my dad knows my mom’s been fucking his boss.”
“How does he know about that!?”
“Just kind of slipped out at dinner the other night.” He doesn’t allow for more questions to be asked. “My parents are…really on the outs now but are trying to hold it together for Liz’s sake I’m pretty fucking sure. They hate the idea of her leaving the country just as they’re getting divorced – something about wanting to remember the happy home she had –, so they’re punishing us all with a week of planned ‘family fun’ meant to make ‘lasting memories’ in Colorado. If I don’t come back, please know it was probably my father, in the kitchen, with the candlestick.”
More laughter floods the air around us.
“And also know that you are welcomed to all of my cash that is not tied up in the tricky Trust Fund bullshit.”
“Which is how much exactly?”
“Why?” He waggles his eyebrows. “Wonderin’ if you’ve got enough to run away to the Bahamas or some shit?”
“Just curious if that’s an option with what I may be getting.”
“The only Bahamas you’d be getting right now is a Bahama Mama.”
“So...like eight bucks?”
“About eleven bucks.” Additional laughter bounces back and forth briefly. “Kind of broke at the moment.”
“Parents cutting you off?”
Ryder’s mouth twitches like he’s about to confess something, but he opts to push a strand of hair behind my ear. “Even though money is tight, I got you something.”
Surprised at his words, I tilt my head. “You didn’t have too, Ry. Just coming to see me before you’re gone for a week is enough.”
“I love that that’s enough for you.”
“When has it ever not been?”
“It hasn’t. You’ve always wanted me for me, and I appreciate that shit.” He rubs his arms and tosses his head towards the jacket I’m wearing. “Check the pocket.”
Slowly, I feel around in it to find a little black box.
“Now, it’s not gonna compare to your kick ass present.” His hands lift teasingly in surrender. “But I figure, something is better than nothin’.”
My finger gently thumbs the top of the velvet box.
It’s not like I got him the most amazing gift in the entire world.
It was fairly small.
Gave it to him after our movie date last week.
He’s really into cars now, so I bought him a classic car book filled with vehicles from all around the world. It’s got photos and facts and history about each of them. I wrapped it in shiny green paper and topped it with a zebra bow to add a little “touch of me” to keep around at the holidays. Sure, it was intended to be thoughtful – I wanted him to know I support whatever he’s into now –, however, the look on his face was one I didn’t expect. It was a combination of admiration and question as if he couldn’t believe someone would put that much effort into something for him.
I didn’t bother asking what Bambi got him.
Whatever it was, it was clear he either didn’t like it or didn’t want it.
“Go ahead, baby,” he sweetly encourages. “Open it.”
Casually, I comply, which is when a small, vintage pocket compass is revealed. In disbelief at what I’m holding, I question at the same instance I look up. “Where on earth did you get this?”