Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I turn back to her and this time she drops on her knee in front of me. “Levi Mathison,” she states my full name, grabbing my hand. Her blue eyes fill with tears and fear. The smile on her face is fake as can be. But it’s her hands that are shaking under mine that I look at while she says, “Will you marry me?”
Chapter Five
Eva
My hands are literally shaking, my whole body is tense and strung out. My head is screaming at me that this is the worst idea I’ve had in my whole life, and believe me, I’ve had some of the worst fucking ideas in life. Like, for example, when I thought I would be able to sew my own clothes. It took me over six months of saving to buy a secondhand sewing machine, only to figure out I fucking hated every single second of it. Then I thought I would knit a sweater, except all I knew how to knit was a straight line so I did scarfs. I wish I could say they were nice, but they were not. There were big holes in them, and that went away quickly. Now this right here standing, well actually, on my knee in Levi’s kitchen is at the top of that list. It is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, but it is also the only thing I can control. “Cat got your tongue?” I ask Levi, trying not to laugh in his face. The nerves are now running through my body. His face has gone from shocked to pale, and I hope he won’t faint on me.
“Oh my God, Eva,” he groans, and I drop my hand when he steps away.
“Okay, how about,” I start to say, “we just meet with my lawyer?” I hold up my hand to stop him from talking when he opens his mouth. “You can ask her any questions you want.” I don’t know if I hold my breath or not, but every single second that ticks by feels like an eon.
“I can’t believe I’m even discussing this,” he finally relents and all I can do is jump off the floor and launch myself into his arms. My arms go around his neck and his arms go around my waist as I give him a hug. I bury my face in his neck, feeling safe as always in his arms.
Before putting my hands on his shoulders, I look into his eyes. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” My hands slap his shoulders with each word, before pushing off him and being put on my feet.
“Don’t thank me just yet,” he mumbles, “we still have to meet with the lawyer.” He rubs his face with his hands.
“Oh, come on.” I place my hip against the counter. “It’s not going to be that bad.” Even though I say the words out loud, my head screams, it’s going to be so much worse than just this.
“I don’t know about that.” He looks down and back up.
“Listen, I know it will be hard for you to even think of committing yourself for a full year. That’s three hundred and sixty-five days. To someone who never, ever had a relationship longer than a four-day weekend fuck fest, which was only because your flight kept getting canceled, this is like eighty-four years.” I fold my arms over my chest as he glares at me. “But I promise I will make it as easy as I can.” I hold up my three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“One, it was three and a half days, and if it had been a second longer, my dick would have fallen off.” He holds his hand up with one finger.
“Barf.” I fake vomit at the thought of his dick falling off, or of his dick in general. There is something to be said about being best friends with a guy who you don’t find at all attractive. I mean he’s hot, sure, and I can appreciate the view, but the mere thought of doing anything sexual with him makes me want to gag. It could also be because I know if we cross that line, we can never get what we have back. And I’m not willing to lose that for a thirty-second orgasm.
“And two, if I wanted to be in a relationship, I would be.” He puts up another finger and my eyebrows go up. “I don’t want a relationship because I don’t have the time to put into a relationship right now.”
“Okay, there.” I nod, saying sure, but not pointing out that he makes time for me whenever he’s in town. He texts me at least once a day, even if it’s to send me a stupid video.
He tilts his head to the side, and I know he can see through me. “How are you doing though?” His voice goes soft, and I roll my eyes and look away from him as I try to blink away the tears that are dying to come out. Tears I know that once one falls, it’ll be a while before they stop. All day long, I’ve done what I needed to in order not to let my brain stop and think of what happened.