Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 838(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 838(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
“Let me know the customer count sometime. Text me.”
If I had tilted my head back any more, I’d have toppled over.
“But you said you don’t like texting.”
“Text me anyway.”
Breathing was still a problem, because when he pulled his hands off my body, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Did I leave now? Did I just stay and stare? He must’ve realized I was frozen, but he didn’t make any comments as I stood stock-still trying to figure out what had just happened.
He casually looked down at his watch and I realized how tightly he was holding himself.
“Raymond must be waiting for you,” he commented, turning to the espresso machine, probably for his own morning coffee. I finally got unstuck.
“Er…right. Yes. I am late, aren’t I? You should, umm, have a good day at the office.” He faced me, leaning against the counter, hands gripping the edge of the white marble. “Happy…day!” I added at the end, as if that would make anything better, and then I turned around.
I closed my eyes and wished myself a quick death as I quickly got out of there. I was only three steps out of the kitchen when his voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Rose.”
I didn’t answer. Words were still precious to come by, in my case.
“You forgot the coffee.”
I closed my eyes, turned, put one foot in front of the other, and strolled back into the kitchen, keeping my eyes safely away from his.
I mumbled a quick thank you as he handed me the stainless steel cups. I tried my best not to touch him in the process, but it was unavoidable, and my eyes flew up to his when his fingers skimmed mine.
He tilted his head, eyes on my finger. I knew what he was looking at.
“You’re wearing it.”
I brought the mugs closer to my chest, trying to hide my ring finger. “I’ve been wearing it all the time. You know this.”
“Good,” he mumbled, his eyes holding mine.
“What is happening here?” I asked suspiciously, because I really couldn’t tell and I really needed to know what was going on so I could somehow take cover.
“Nothing. Have a good morning, Rose.”
Even more suspicious and a little off-kilter, I turned around and left without saying anything else. Too busy in my own thoughts, I didn’t say much to anyone for the rest of the morning.
The number of times Jack Hawthorne smiled: none. (I’ve lost hope. Help.)
Chapter Thirteen
Rose
The rest of the few days leading up to the event was just as weird as that morning. We were both very busy and didn’t catch each other alone that much, but in the evenings when he came to pick me up, if there were people around, he made a show of touching me. It was nothing big, nothing that made me jump out of his arms in panic, but even a simple kiss on my cheek as a hello or a hand at the small of my back got to me. He would casually pull my hair out of my coat and would offer me his hand when there was a puddle in my way while we were walking to the car, as if I would slip and drown in that little puddle of water if he wasn’t holding on to me. I very well could have, but that wasn’t the issue. He was opening my doors, giving a gentle push at my back when I just stared at him with a small frown, and the way he said my name while looking into my eyes, the way it fell from his lips…the way he listened to me so intently whenever I managed to say something…had he always listened to me like that or had I started imagining things?
I couldn’t be sure.
Almost every night he asked if I was free for dinner, and almost every night we ate takeout in the dining room where he actually made a big effort to talk to me, and I enjoyed every minute of it, but if I said I wasn’t confused, it’d be a lie. That didn’t change anything; even when he received one-line answers, he kept going. I usually went up to bed as soon as dinner was done, not entirely because I was running away from him, but because I was getting these vicious headaches almost every other day.
I bought the dress the day before the actual event. I’d put it off as long as I could, but leaving it to the very last day was pushing it even for me. I chose the cheapest dress they showed me, though that wasn’t saying much of anything because it was equal to two months of my rent.
As much as I’d hated the experience, the dress was beautiful and worth it—so beautiful, in fact, that you’d want to randomly take it out of your closet and wear it in your home while binge-watching The Office. To say I was nervous to go out in public wearing it was an understatement.