Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“I think I know just the thing to pass the time.” She winks at me, and it doesn’t take me long to realize what she means.
TWENTY-NINE
GABRIELLA
My eyes flutter open once, and then I quickly close them back again, turning to my side. My head sinks farther into the pillow. I pull the thick white duvet closer to me as I try to slip back into sleep. I reach out my hand for him, but the bed is empty. His side of the bed is still hot from his body. Listening to see if he’s in the bathroom, I mumble his name, “Romeo.”
I wait for a couple of minutes before I turn to my back and open my eyes, the light trying to come into the room from around the closed curtains. “Romeo,” I call his name a bit louder but still nothing. I get up on my elbow and look around my bedroom. His clothes are on the chair in the corner with mine.
I toss the duvet off, the cold air hitting my naked body and making me shiver once. I get out of bed, going over to the chair in the corner, grabbing his white T-shirt and putting it on before walking into the bathroom. I wash my face and tie my hair on the top of my head before heading down the stairs. I can smell the coffee wafting through the house.
I can hear his voice softly as I get closer and closer to the kitchen. I walk in and see his back to me; he’s wearing just black boxers as he waits for his coffee to finish. “When would you need to know?” he says to whoever is on the phone as I walk up to him and wrap my arms around his waist, kissing his bare back. He puts his left hand on top of mine. “Yeah, it would be great,” he replies as I lay my head on his back. “I will get back to you for sure.” He listens to what the other person is saying. “Thank you so much for calling,” he says before hanging up and putting his phone on the counter. “Good morning.” He turns in my arms, his arms wrapping around me as he bends to kiss the top of my head.
“Morning,” I mumble, laying my head on his chest and listening to his heart beating. “Who was that?”
“Sander.” He says the name, and I have never heard it before. I look up at him as he looks down, and my heart skips a beat, just like every single time I look at him. “He’s one of the directors on the film we just finished filming in Turkey.”
“Everything okay?” I ask, and he nods, but I can tell from the look on his face that things aren’t really okay.
“Let me make coffee, and I’ll tell you all about it.” He kisses my lips once before letting me go. I don’t know why, but the way he said it makes my back tingle, and I get this nervous feeling in my stomach. “Where do you want to have coffee?” he asks as he walks over to grab another mug to make my coffee. We’ve been back from the beach for two weeks now, two weeks that we’ve been living with each other without saying we are living with each other. He still has his suite at the Ritz-Carlton, and we’ve stayed there a total of two nights, but he keeps packing a bag and bringing things back to my house.
“We can have it on the couch,” I suggest, walking toward the couch, trying to tell myself that everything is okay. I ignore the way my heart speeds up or that my stomach is in my throat. I even ignore the way my mouth gets dry and the way the back of my neck gets really hot. I sit down, grabbing the throw blanket hanging on the back of the couch. I curl my feet under me before placing the cover on top of my bare legs.
“Here you go,” Romeo offers, handing me my mug.
“Thank you.” I grab the mug with both hands before smiling at him and watching him sit right next to me. He holds his mug in his right hand while he drapes his left arm over my covered legs.
“So,” I say, avoiding looking at him and instead bringing the cup of coffee to my lips, taking a sip. “What was that all about?” I finally get the courage to look over at him.
“Real life calling,” he jokes, and I know that his joking is nervousness in him. It’s his way of pretending things don’t bother him.
“What did real life say?” I ask, trying to ignore all the shit going through my head. I knew it would be calling eventually, but I wasn’t ready, I guess. I bring the cup of coffee back to my lips to try not to show him that I’m freaking out.