Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
“On my honor, your Majesty, no harm shall come to them so long as I live!” He raises his arm high into the air and I realize he’s carrying the same toy sword he had when Regina first arrived. The kids march to the car, with Regina close behind. It’s been less than a month since she arrived, and already I can’t remember what life was like without her.
Without Regina.
Damn it. It hits me I’ll be spending the next two weeks without her. I’ll be managing these brats on my own, without a stolen kiss here, or a sly pinch there to ease the chaos. I won’t have her moaning in my bed at night as I worship those curves, making her come again and again in my arms.
I won’t get to kiss her again for two weeks. I can’t even kiss her now as the kids scramble into the car.
Reluctantly, I open the driver’s side door and meet her eyes over the hood of the vehicle. The air sparks, and the connection is electric. I want to speak, but I can’t find the words to say. Finally, she smiles and breaks the connection.
“Have fun with the kids, Ryan,” she says softly. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”
I nod formally.
“Goodbye Regina.”
She breaks into another gorgeous smile, making my heart leap, and waves. With that, I get into the car and begin driving down the winding road leading away our house. The kids have already begun to squabble in back of me, and suddenly, two weeks at my mom’s seems like a prison sentence rather than a vacation. Without Regina, how will I survive?
10
Regina
I remember giggling and waving as the SUV disappeared down the road. I remember waving and smiling, even while dying a bit inside.
They’re gone.
Gone. I won’t see Ryan for two weeks now, and even though I know the absence is only temporary, my heart crumples a bit. I’m so used to his big hands on my curves, and that hot warmth at my back while I sleep. How will I survive without him?
Already a bit depressed, I drag myself back into the house and head straight for the freezer. I pile ice cream into a bowl the size of a small bucket, and then pour myself a gallon of wine to go with it.
Okay, I get that my reaction is over the top. But still, my heart feels wrung out, and I sit listlessly at the kitchen counter while fingering my spoon. A few things swirl through my mind.
First, cabernet sauvignon does not pair well with mango ice cream.
Second, I love him. I’m not infatuated with him. I don’t have a crush on him. I’m not growing to love him. I’m not falling in love. I’m there already.
Third, does Ryan love me back?
My heart shudders with the question. Could it be possible? There have been a lot of long looks and meaningful gazes. We’ve made love slowly and sensually several times, and I swear he looks at me with adoration while rocking between my hips. But it’s hard to tell. He certainly hasn’t said the words, although I feel like he’s trying to tell me without saying it outright.
I glance at the empty wine glass and empty ice cream bowl. I tell myself I survived for twenty-five years before I met Ryan; I can survive a couple weeks without him. I can survive even if he doesn’t love me.
But can I still handle this job?
The question makes me feel no better and my shoulders slump. I should get up, clean my mess, and go to my room to pack. In a moment of weakness, I consider just staying the whole time at the mansion but in the end, I decide to leave. It’s too pathetic to rattle around here by myself for two weeks. It’s better to go somewhere else, and I did promise to pay a visit to my mom.
Forty-five minutes later I’m back at my parents’ home and opening the window to my bedroom to let out the stale air. My mother kept the room exactly as I left it, with my doll collection still on the shelves and the pink comforter with white ruffled edges.
I can’t believe I miss Ryan so much.
I miss the sex. I definitely miss that. It’s only been hours since we last made love, and I already miss that. I miss the way he holds me. I miss falling asleep on his chest and waking up in his arms. I miss his smile. I miss talking to him and laughing with him. I miss doing and saying nothing at all, but just being with him, knowing that he’s there with me.
I miss him the rest of that hour.
I miss him for the next hour, too.
I miss him while trying my best not to be distracted while Mom feeds me lunch and chatters on about neighborhood gossip.