Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
The confusion on my wife’s face softens with that last part. “Astrid loves her life in Philly. She loves her friends and her activities. My dad lives two hours from us. And your parents are a ten-minute drive away. My brother just started working for you, and he’s engaged. Also, I love my job. We … we’re already living the dream.” She runs her hand along my tie. “And you’ve been given a second chance. Are you unhappy?”
“I have been given a second chance, which means it would be foolish not to make a change so that I don’t waste it by repeating the same thing.”
“You’re not doing the same thing. You’re eating better. And you’re only working three days a week.”
“I’m eating worse than I was eating to get better. And last week, all three of my days were ten-hour days because I have the kind of job that relentlessly takes until I have nothing left to give.”
“You’re your own boss. Delegate. Or quit. You don’t have to work. And if you want to move, let’s look for a place in Chesterbrook or Ardmore so Astrid can still see her friends.”
I frown. “Amelia … it’s more than that. I don’t want to live in the burbs. And I don’t want to live in a polluted city where we endure months of cold weather. I don’t want Wi-Fi in my house, and I don’t want to carry a cell phone. I don’t want my daughter glued to an iPad and complaining that her friends have a phone, but she doesn’t. It’s not just about me. I’ve changed. And this isn’t the life I want for you or Astrid, either.”
She chuckles. “You want to leave our families and live in the middle of nowhere?”
“That’s a simplified, lackluster version of what I’m suggesting, but … yes.”
She gazes around the tent, slowly shaking her head. “You can’t ask this of a nine-year-old.”
“What happens when the cancer comes back?”
“We’re not going to let that happen. Even though you didn’t want to make a follow-up appointment, I did it for you. We’ll monitor you and catch anything before it gets too advanced again. But it won’t. You’re better. I feel it.”
This is the woman who tried to perform CPR on me while I was still breathing. God, I’m madly in love with her, but she’s not good under stress. And her heart won’t let her see reality when it’s not filled with rainbows and roses. It’s an endearing quality that’s also dangerous.
I start to speak just as Koen and Scottie approach our table. The blushing bride doesn’t look me in the eye, and I can’t blame her. I tried to steal her for purely selfish reasons.
“I haven’t had a chance to meet your wife,” Koen says.
“That’s right.” I smile. “Koen, this is Amelia.”
She slides from my lap back to her chair and offers her hand to him. “It’s very nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting us. We needed an excuse to get away by ourselves for a little while.”
“Thank you for coming.” He releases her hand.
“I heard you built your house,” Amelia says. “That’s impressive.”
Koen goes into a long spiel about the inspiration and the process while Scottie’s gaze floats around the tent with her hand resting flat against her stomach.
I can’t take my eyes off her hand as she occasionally moves it in a slow circle. Either she’s hungry or pregnant. Her hand stills, and she abruptly drops it to her side. My gaze lifts to meet hers.
After a few slow blinks, I offer her a tiny grin. A beautiful blush paints her cheeks.
“Excuse me,” I interrupt. “I’ll be right back.”
Amelia ignores me, and Koen gives me a quick nod while talking. As I emerge from the tent, I loosen my tie and stroll toward the backyard, where the chairs have been picked up. Then, I follow a flagstone path behind the detached garage to a firepit, stacks of wood, and open barrels stuffed with pieces of scrap metal.
“Amelia is perfect for you.”
I turn.
Scottie steps closer, the skirt of her dress gathered in one hand.
“Is this where I say Koen is perfect for you?”
“Is he not?”
I lift a shoulder. “He’s fine.”
“Fine?” Her eyes widen.
“You’ll have babies and most likely grow old and die together surrounded by grandkids and great-grandkids.”
She laughs. “Sounds like a horrible life.”
My hands slide into my pockets. “The first night we had dinner in Austin, had I kissed you, had I shown interest beyond friendship, would you be standing here today in that wedding gown with that ring on your finger?”
“Price—”
“Humor me.”
She sighs. “No.”
I nod several times.
“Had I kissed you and told you about the baby, would you have left your wife and daughter to be with me?”
I grunt a tiny laugh with my lips pressed together.
“Humor me,” she says.