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)
I answered honestly in a steady voice. “Sick to my stomach.” That was exactly how I felt, though somehow I also felt relieved that I hadn’t made the mistake of marrying someone like Joshua—someone who told me how much he loved me so easily and so often and yet, in the end, apparently didn’t mean it at all. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend how he could be with Jodi. They knew each other through me. We’d had dinner together a handful of times with the family when Gary had invited him over and they’d chatted every now and then when we bumped into each other, but I could’ve never, ever imagined…this—not even from Jodi, and definitely not from Joshua. He’d always told me he thought Jodi was like an ice princess and he didn’t care for that type.
My hands were in my lap, almost frozen, so when Jack’s hand covered mine, I dropped my eyes, watching him slowly link our fingers together again, just as he had done so many times in the last hour. I was fascinated by it enough that I let go of every single thought about Jodi and Joshua evidently being together and focused on the only thing that was warming me from the inside out.
“Your hands are cold,” Jack muttered under his breath, and I realized how close we were sitting to each other.
Had he moved? He kept our hands on my thigh, mine tightly grasped in his, and I decided I liked the feel of it, the heaviness, the warmth. So I held on just as tight. “I know.”
His thumb started rolling my wedding ring around my finger.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
It was such a weird sensation, feeling his skin on mine. Did he feel the same? The tingles?
He nodded once and I peered at him under my lashes, trying not to be too obvious. So what if he was just pretending? I could do the same. I could take this comfort from him and let myself feel loved. I could just stop thinking and enjoy my seconds and minutes with him. I didn’t have to analyze my every move. I could just be whatever I wanted to be with Jack while we were out in public like this. I could fool myself, happily, before we had to step back into the real, harsh world.
Lifting my head, I looked at him. Two spots were open at our table to Jack’s left, the other four seats taken by two women and two men who were talking among themselves.
“Jack, talk to me,” I urged as the emcee of the night took the stage and the lights dimmed just slightly. A hush fell over the crowd in the room, but there was still quiet chatter here and there, which was why I didn’t feel guilty about my lack of attention.
Jack’s eyes were on the stage, but they turned to me and I repeated my words.
“Just talk to me.”
He sighed. “What do you want to talk about?”
I shrugged, glad he didn’t put up much of a fight. “Anything. Everything. Whatever you want.”
A line etched between his brows as he studied me for a quick moment. “How many cups of coffee did you sell today? You didn’t text.”
I smiled, my heart settling down a bit more. As much as he insisted he wasn’t good at small talk, I always enjoyed his company. He had his own way of doing things. He rarely lost the frown, for one thing, but in my eyes, it only made him look more attractive. He could frown at me an entire night and I still wouldn’t mind it. I relaxed in my seat, finally starting to thaw out.
“One hundred eighty-six.”
“That’s a few more than yesterday, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Are you happy then?” he asked.
I gave him a bigger smile. “I am. It’s going to be cinnamon week next week and I’m very excited about that. Do you have a special request? I might be able to make it happen.”
His gaze moved away from mine for a brief moment when the entire room erupted in laughter and then applause. I noticed an army of waiters swarming around the tables, two of them rounding ours with plates in their hands. Jack let go of my hand and leaned back so the waiter could do his job. The loss of his touch settled over me, and I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel about that. They took our drink orders: white wine for me and whiskey on the rocks for Jack.
As soon as they left us alone with our weirdly colored risottos and went to get the drink orders, I leaned back in.
“Any specific cinnamon orders?”
I would’ve preferred him grabbing my hand again, but instead he casually slung his arm across the back of my chair and turned his body toward me.