Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“You two are miracle workers.”
“No, we’re just girls who cry a lot,” Sofia corrects.
“Speak for yourself,” Lucia mutters, and I laugh.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Sofia grins.
“I’ll see you at the table.” Lucia picks up her purse and walks through the door, and I bite back another laugh. Obviously, Roman isn’t the only King who can’t handle gratitude.
“Ready?” Francesca asks, looking back at me while following her daughters.
“Yeah.” I drag in a breath, then let it out slowly before I leave the bathroom a few steps behind them. When I reach the table, Roman stands to hold my chair, and I glance Ricardo’s way as I take my seat. I don’t know what I expect the look on his face to be, and never in a million years would I have thought I’d see respect in his gaze, but there it is. I don’t know what it means or if I will ever really like him, but if he can respect me, then I can return that gesture.
“Better?” Roman whispers against my ear after taking his seat once more.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He presses his lips to the side of my head, then threads his fingers through mine.
Thankfully, the rest of the dinner is uneventful. There are no tears, no family drama. It’s just a delicious meal with small talk that feels a little uncomfortable, like it doesn’t happen often enough.
By the time Roman and I make it home, it’s almost ten, so I wander right to the bedroom and strip out of my dress so I can put on his T-shirt, which has become one of my favorite parts of the day, every day.
“Did you have—” My words end on a gasp as I’m tackled to the bed by a solid body. Shoving my hair out of my face, I look up at the man hovering over me with an elbow on the bed and half his body pressing mine into the mattress.
“Are you still mad at me?”
“No.” I smooth my fingers down his jaw as I look into his eyes. “And I’ll find some way to pay you back.”
“Marry me, give me babies, and make us a home. That’s all the payback I need.”
“How many babies?” I ask, moving my fingers into his hair.
“I don’t know. It’s not something I ever thought about before you.”
“At least two.”
“At least two,” he agrees, leaning down to kiss me, and I kiss him back, pouring everything I feel for him into it. Maybe it was just chance that he and I met, but it feels like something bigger was at work, something that the human mind is too small to even comprehend.
23
ROMAN
43.0760° N, 107.2903° W
Walking out the front door of Elora’s family home with a cup of coffee, I walk over to the railing on the front deck and look out at the mountain in the distance. Two days ago, we arrived in Littleton, and each morning, I’ve come out here to drink my coffee and take in the view.
It’s beautiful. It’s also quiet, so quiet I know I won’t be able to stay here too long before the silence becomes too much. But I’ve enjoyed the peace, the history it holds for Elora, and the way her face lights up every time she tells me stories about growing up here.
Turning to look over my shoulder when I hear the door to the house open, I smile as I watch Elora stumble outside in just my tee, with her hair a mess from the shower we took last night and my fingers that tangled in it after we fell into bed.
“Morning.” She walks up to join me, and I lift my arm when she curls into my side. “I thought you’d sleep in.”
“Me too, but I think it’s too quiet.” She takes the mug from my hand putting it to her lips to take a sip.
“Since I’m up, do you want to go have breakfast in town?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Yeah, I don’t really feel like cooking.” She hands me back the cup, then leans up on her toes for a kiss. Once I press my lips to hers, she drops back down. “I’m going to get ready.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” I watch her disappear back into the house, then turn back to the view as I finish my coffee. When I’m done, I walk inside and wander through the living room. It’s exactly as it was when Millie was alive. Pictures of Elora growing up are on every available surface, books she enjoyed reading are stacked on the coffee table, and art supplies are still out from a painting she was working on near the window as if she expected to come back and finish it. It was the same at Val’s apartment when I went there while he was in the hospital.