Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“I had no idea.”
“Not many people do. Your dad does, but…”
Sudden, unfair anger whelms inside of me.
“We can still reference Dad. We don’t have to pretend he doesn’t exist.”
Brian doesn’t respond to my anger. He watches me calmly, and I know he can tell what my outburst is about—guilt twisting its way up to the surface and crushing me.
“Do you want to know how much I have?”
“You don’t have to tell me,” I say, “and in the future, if we can, you know I’ll sign a prenup.”
He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“So you can have peace of mind.”
“We’re forever,” he growls. “I’m not going to touch another woman for the rest of my life, and if there’s a world after this one, those angels better stay the hell away from me. When I said it’s just you and me, I meant it.”
“So did I,” I say, just as fiercely. “I was saying I’d do it for you.”
“Get that thought out of your head. You don’t need to sign anything. My money is yours. Our money is ours, I should say.”
We pause, then curiosity gets the better of me. “So… how much?”
“One million and nine hundred thousand dollars, or thereabouts.”
I gasp, then lower my gaze when a couple at the table beside us look sharply over. I almost snap at them for no other reason than they’re holding hands, and it pisses me off, reminding me that Brian and I can’t do that.
“That’s impressive,” I say. “You should be so proud. To earn all that on a Marine’s salary…”
“It’s like I said, I spent nothing. I invested almost all of it. People can say what they want about the military, but if your goal is to save money—not necessarily make it—it’s the best place to be. Some years, I spent south of a few thousand dollars.”
“Were you saving for the studio?” I ask.
He’s about to answer when the waiter brings our food and drinks. Mine is scrambled egg on toast, except this is the fanciest scrambled egg/toast combo I’ve ever seen, garnish on the side, the bread thick and toasted to a golden brown, and the egg evenly distributed over the bread. Brian takes his plate—bacon, eggs, pancakes—and then answers.
“I wasn’t sure what I would do when I retired or if I ever would retire. I loved it in the Marines.”
“So, why did you retire?”
“As I got older, I started thinking about a family and the future. Honestly, I didn’t think I would find anybody. I told myself that having a place to call home, a business I could invest in and nurture, would be enough.” He smirks. “Now we’re together, and I realize how crazy that was.”
“I’m seriously, really proud of you,” I say. “Not many people could do what you’ve done. The tours, the service… That’s amazing. Then you add the money stuff. Heck, it could make a girl feel like she’s not good enough.”
“Get that thought out of your head and stomp on it. There’s no question of you not being good enough. Don’t even think that.”
“I just mean…”
Leaning back, I look around the rooftop garden with the large trees in the center, shadows spreading across the tables and chairs. There are glamorous women everywhere in sparkly dresses, thin or gym-honed, with Botox and fillers and symmetrical fake breasts with the cleavage prominently on display. Some of these women sit next to older men—not like Brian old, but old, old.
“You could have anybody in this place. With your money, looks, and…”
“Don’t talk about other women,” he says gruffly. “It’s disgusting to me.”
The word is so unexpected, I laugh. “Disgusting?”
“I’m not joking. When I think of you with another man, I get mad. I feel like finding the bastard and seriously hurting him, but I don’t get angry when I think about myself with another woman. I get sick. It’s a reflex, a tightening in my gut.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. Just don’t puke in this fancy restaurant, okay?”
He chuckles, and then I’m laughing too. It’s a special moment just for us. I don’t even care if people are watching. Let them be jealous of our happiness.
As we drive back toward the house, even the idea of laughing seems far away.
“We have to do it, don’t we?” I say, once Brian’s guiding us through the suburbs.
Brian glances at me, his confidence gone. He looks more uncertain than I’ve ever seen, more than I could have imagined when lost in my crush days.
“We have to,” he repeats as if convincing himself.
“Is Dad going to be surprised you’re bringing me home?”
“I told him I was spending the night elsewhere. He didn’t ask questions. We can say we arranged the tattoo, and I picked you up for that, or I can drop you around the corner.”