Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
My breath hitches. I haven’t had much experience with relationships, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t how most of them start. It feels like we’re doing this all backward. Yet that doesn’t mean I don’t feel a surge of hopeful excitement at hearing the words. The possibility he’s serious about this.
Then again, I’ve been burned before. Kissed within an inch of my life only to have him take it all back. I didn’t realize until this moment what a deep scar that left on me.
“This is a lot to absorb,” I say softly.
“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to spring it on you all at once.”
I want to say yes. To throw myself at him and let it all be true. But I have to protect myself. And that means a healthy dose of skepticism. Never mind that meeting the fam right off the bat is a major test of what would be a brand-new tenuous relationship.
I reach over and take his hand. He immediately entwines our fingers, and the warmth of his touch sends a shiver through me.
“I…” I squeeze his hand. “I can’t go to Sydney with you.”
I try to ignore the deep ache in my chest as I watch the disappointment wash over his face.
“Oh. Yeah. I get it. No worries.”
God, I hate disappointing him. The hurt evident in his deflated posture tears at me, and almost instantly, I’m recalculating if I’ve done the right thing.
Averting his eyes, he tries to pull his hand away, but I don’t let him.
“I forgive you,” I say firmly.
Jack’s gaze slowly finds mine. “You do?”
“I do. Me saying no right now doesn’t have to do with your deal with my dad. I forgive you for that.”
Because no matter how embarrassed I feel every time I think about Jack getting paid to babysit me, I finally understand that proverb about not cutting off your nose to spite your face. I’m only punishing myself by not forgiving Jack. By not wiping the slate clean. We still live together after all. And…well, I care about him.
A lot.
“I’m willing to start fresh. But I’m not sure a weeklong trip where I meet your family is the way to dip our toes back into this.”
He nods again. “I understand.”
“And just because I’m saying no to Sydney doesn’t mean I’m shutting down the other thing. The girlfriend thing.”
His lips quirk up. “All right.”
“But maybe we can table that discussion until you get back?”
“Of course. It’s only a week, right?”
He gets up, tugging me to my feet. My knees feel wobbly as I peer up at his suddenly heavy-lidded eyes. I can tell he wants to kiss me. A part of me is dying for him to.
But this reconciliation is still too fragile. So I head for the door before I succumb to the urge.
I awkwardly reach for the doorknob. “I need to shower.”
“If you change your mind about Sydney,” Jack says, “you know where to find me Friday night, okay?”
“Okay,” I echo.
In the bathroom, I release the breath I’d been holding and study my reflection in the mirror, wondering what the heck just happened.
Has Jack really declared his love for me?
Asked me to come home to meet his mother?
I’m not even close to processing any of it when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I fish it out, startled to find a text from Nate, who I haven’t seen or spoken to in weeks.
Nate: Hey. Can we talk?
When it rains, it pours.
After some hesitation, I text him back.
Me: What about?
Nate: I’d rather tell you in person. Any chance you can meet me at the bar later? I’m off at eleven. I know it’s late, but I don’t want to wait till tomorrow.
Wait for what? Curiosity rears its ugly head inside me. Jack’s bombshells and now Nate’s cryptic request? There goes any chance of being able to focus on editing my research paper tonight. I’m going to spend the next five hours obsessing over what Nate might have to say to me after weeks of radio silence.
It doesn’t escape me that I just told Jack I’d consider the idea of being his girlfriend. And I meant it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still have feelings for Nate. Confusing, complicated feelings that I can’t even begin to sort out until I’ve seen him again and heard what he has to say.
Me: All right. I’ll be there at 11.
49
AT ELEVEN O’CLOCK SHARP, I WALK INTO THE BAR AND FIND NATE still working behind the long counter. He’s in a snug black T-shirt, dark locks of hair falling onto his forehead as he concentrates on mixing a drink. As always, my heart speeds up, because I’m a complete and utter goner when it comes to this man.
At the sight of me, his eyes flicker with pleasure, then regret as he explains that the other bartender was a no-show, which means Nate has to stay for another hour.