Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Tyler’s super secret, super gorgeous girlfriend,” Mrs. Wagner answered.
She and Morgan giggled as Mr. Wagner chimed in with something, but I couldn’t recall a word of it.
Because my eyes were locked on Tyler’s, and his were watching mine, and there wasn’t a single breath of oxygen to be had in that wide backyard.
“Oh,” I breathed.
Morgan went on about how lovely Azra was, about how she was a model and a huge Instagram influencer, how she was from Turkey, how she was “an absolute blast,” but I barely heard a word. My chest was so tight now I thought my lungs would evacuate my body for fear of being completely crushed by my rib cage.
He has a girlfriend?
Why didn’t I know that?
Why do I care?
Tyler just watched me, like he was waiting for me to react as my mind raced and whirled, my palms dampening, heart beating loud in my ears.
And with every ounce of willpower I had, I held my expression completely neutral.
“I can’t wait to meet her,” I finally managed, my gaze still holding his.
He blinked, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge that he’d even heard me.
And just like that, Morgan moved on.
I ripped my eyes from Tyler’s, but I felt him watch me for the longest time as Morgan continued going through the schedule. I managed to stay quiet and calm until she’d made it through, and then I stood, making an excuse about being jet-lagged to excuse myself for the night.
“You’re three hours behind us,” Morgan pointed out with a pout. “I thought you’d have loads of energy. I want to stay up all night and gab!”
I squeezed her arm. “I know, I think I’m just tired from the long flight. But we have tomorrow. And I promise, I won’t go to bed before midnight.”
“Pshhh, two in the morning if you’re lucky,” she said, giving me a big hug. “And, you’ll get to meet Oliver!”
I squeezed her back. “I can’t wait,” I said, genuinely.
Amanda and Robert gave me a hug, too, and Tyler stood, staring at me from across the fire.
“Goodnight, Jasmine,” he said simply, his hands in his pockets, the light from the flames dancing with the shadows on his face.
“Goodnight,” I croaked.
And then I made my way upstairs for my first sleepless night back in New Hampshire.
Inhale. Three steps. Exhale. Three steps. Inhale. Three steps. Exhale. Three steps.
The familiar pattern was music to my ears, my sneakers hitting the paved and winding road that led down from the Wagner’s house and toward the center of Bridgechester. My arms moved in time at my sides, my breaths quick but comfortable, not labored even after three miles.
Running had always been my escape, my comfort, my answer to dealing with stress and my celebration when everything felt right and good. Whether I was in the deepest pit of my life, or standing on the highest mountain, and every day in-between, running was always there.
Constant. Reliable. Necessary.
After a night of tossing and turning, I needed the release.
I told myself it was the jitters setting in, the nerves I felt from being the maid of honor in a wedding less than two weeks away now. I had a lot to do, a lot to plan, a lot to help with, and I had to do it all while still balancing work. That had to be the reason I couldn’t sleep, the reason I had laid awake staring at the ceiling in the Hibiscus suite, the reason my chest had been so tight I thought it would reduce my lungs to coal with the pressure.
It had absolutely nothing to do with Tyler.
I assured myself of that, as well.
The scenery change from California was welcome, and I felt all the stress and anxiety leaving me with each new breath as I ran the old familiar loop I used to run when I’d stay the night at Morgan’s. My feet carried me without my brain telling them where to go, guiding me down hidden drives and back roads and right up to the edge of town before I turned to make my way back.
It was strange how familiar everything still felt after years of being away, and yet, how it all felt somehow new, too.
The fresh air and cool New England morning was invigorating. It was still technically spring, though summer was just a couple weeks away, and I loved the smell of the damp grass in the morning, the feel of the breeze sweeping in from the mountains, the breathtaking sights of the first rays of sun making their way through the spruces and pines.
Seven miles and an hour later, and all the anxiety I’d felt the night before was completely gone.
At least, until I rounded the foyer into the kitchen and saw I wasn’t the only one up early on Sunday morning.
Tyler sat at the kitchen island, still in his navy blue sweatpants and simple white t-shirt, with one foot planted on the ground and the other hooked casually on the lower bar of his stool. His hair was an absolute disaster, the boyish waves sticking up this way and that. He had both hands wrapped around a mug of hot tea, his eyes focused on the iPad he had propped up in front of him, and Bluetooth headphones in his ears.