Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 69371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
"Can I use the bathroom?" I finally say, knowing that I should wash my face. "I'm assuming that you don't have makeup remover?" I ask as he looks up at me.
"Yes, it's next to the facial scrubs that is next to the hammam spa." I can't help but snort out at his comment.
"Where can I sign up for that service?" I ask over my shoulder and walk to the bathroom. I'm about to go in when I think about him not checking in there. "Is there a window in there?"
"No," he says, and I just nod my head. “Should be all clear."
"Great, just what you love to hear," I mumble, turning the door handle and stepping in to close the door behind me. The bathroom has one sink, a toilet, and a shower. It looks like it was updated at the same time as the kitchen. I walk over to the pedestal and turn on the water, looking into the mirror. Well, there are no black streaks down my face, so that's a plus. “They were not joking when they said waterproof." I take a second to wet my hands and then put them on my cheeks before walking out, and the smell just hits me and my stomach growls. “It smells amazing," I say, walking over to the kitchen as he whisks something in the cast-iron pan. “What are you making?"
"Chicken Alfredo," he answers, without looking at me and I just stare at him. My heart is beating so hard in my chest I have to walk away from him in case he can hear it.
But then I stop and look over at him. “You were going to come up here on my wedding day, get trashed, and eat my favorite meal.”
“I guess I’m a glutton for punishment,” he says as he grabs two plates and puts food on them.
My mouth waters when I sit on the stool, and he walks over and puts a plate in front of me. “I know it wasn’t on your menu for the wedding,” he says, walking around me to sit down on the stool beside me. “Hope it passes your standards.”
“Well, it looks like shit.” I keep my face straight as I look at him and all he does is stare at me. “Kidding,” I say, laughing, and he flips me the bird. This, this right here is what we do. We can hate each other one minute, and then it’s back to normal. It’s always been like that with him.
“Bon appétit,” he says, grabbing his fork and twirling the pasta around it. I watch him take the first bite, and he nods his head. “Not too bad if I say so myself.”
I grab my own fork, and the minute the pasta hits my tongue, I moan. “It’s orgasmic,” I say, and he just shakes his head. The creamy, buttery sauce just hits all the boxes as comfort food. “Was there anyone in New York?” The words leave my lips before I can kick myself. Why would you ask him this? For what reason? My head screams at me. I don’t even look at him. Instead, I focus on the pasta in front of me.
“No one that I wanted to marry,” he says, and I don’t even know why it matters. I was going to get married. It’s not like I waited for him. The rest of the meal is quiet, neither of us saying anything.
I look over at him as he finishes his last bite. “Why don’t you just stay the night and leave tomorrow?” He just looks at me, and all I can do is stare into his eyes. They look as if there is a battle going on. “It’s already late, and you look tired.”
“There is only one bed,” he reminds me, and I repeat the words so they can sink in my head.
“There is only one bed.” I grab some pasta to keep my mouth busy from saying something that I shouldn’t say.
“I would say, sleep on the sofa.” I try to joke with him, but the nerves in my stomach make it feel like a fish flops when it gets out of the water.
“I’ll sleep in the truck,” he says, and I roll my eyes.
“That’s stupid. We can sleep in the same bed,” I respond and then grab the scotch, taking a gulp. “I can sleep under the covers, and you can sleep on top, and we can put some cushions in the middle of us.”
“Like the wall of China?” he jokes, and I look at him.
“Yes, with a barbwire fence.” I fake a smile as I take another sip. “Like shark-infested waters right out of Alcatraz.”
He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh. “I am going to clean up since you cooked.”
“No, you don’t have to do that,” he says, leaning over and taking a long pull of the scotch.