Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“I don’t want this to be a summer romance. I do want to go and do this with my parents, but not if leaving is going to hurt you. I thought I could go for a week or two at a time. Not every month, either. And that maybe, if you’re comfortable, you’d like to come with me for a few weeks. Since I’ve met you, my life has been better in every way. I don’t want to leave you, and I don’t want to break up. I want us to keep getting to know each other. I want our relationship to get stronger, and I want our lives to one day mesh into this perfect and amazing path that we’re both so happy to be traveling. I know we talked about ideals, and I want that. I want that with you. All the ideals, no matter how idealistic they are.”
His voice gets thicker and thicker with every word, and I’m over here, my butt going numb from the metal of this bench, my throat getting thick as hell. It’s hardly possible to even swallow around the lump that just formed in it.
“I know why you’d want that,” I rasp hoarsely. “It’s because I’m awesome shit.”
He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even crack a smile. All I get is more solemness. “That’s right. You are awesome shit. I know you don’t like the word legacy, but if you had to leave one behind, I hope it’s after a lifetime of me because I’d be so honored. That’s getting ahead of ourselves, and it’s probably scary as hell, but that’s my hope. I’m not in this with you just because I think the sex is great, although it is great. Really great. And I’m not in it with you to satisfy my parents. This is real. It’s truly real. I’m not in it to ever walk out on you. We might have come from different places in our lives, but sometimes, that’s just two people lining up perfectly at the crossroads so they can walk a path together.”
“That’s very poetic and metaphorical. You should take up writing.”
His nose wrinkles. “Only if I go to Scotland. I’ll write then. I’ll write you the longest texts you’ve ever seen. Or emails. Shit, I’ll even write letters and send them the second I get there, and I’ll still probably beat them back.” His face says he’s taking a risk when he pulls me into his arms, but I snuggle into him willingly and feel his body relax beside me.
His breath is hot against my forehead before he kisses me there.
“I want my legacy to be a life well spent with you. I want it to be a hundred more flavors of pudding.”
“Only a hundred? Why stop there?”
He laughs, his body shaking me so that it feels like I’m laughing too, even though I’m just grinning this huge, foolish, epic, awesome grin. “I want my legacy to be our legacy. It can be whatever you want. Pudding, crab, friends, family, children or no children, a life here or anywhere else in the world, or a mix of both. It can be anything we dream up, but the one thing I always want it to be is love and kindness. If we have those, as well as compassion and empathy for each other, I think we can do anything.”
I angle into him, shifting my head so we’re looking into each other’s eyes again. “How poetic, Bergamont. I like that. Please don’t ever stop saying kind things and having all these huge hopes and dreams for the future. Also, please don’t ever stop being brave enough to say them and brave enough to share them. And please don’t ever stop buying pudding companies just because you’re intrigued by me. Wait. That’s already done. You don’t have to buy any other ones. I’m already yours.”
His breath hitches. It makes my eyes burn, and holy crabvioli and shakes, the new crab pudding flavor we’re going to launch, and all the other crab inventions in the world, there’s no way I’m going to be able to hold back these tears.
“I won’t ever stop. I promise.”
This is a moment. One of those sweet, fairytale moments people wait a lifetime for. It’s almost perfect. So, of course, I have to try one more time to make him laugh because things that seem too perfect are never that perfect. It’s always best to remember that they’re real life, and imperfection is okay. The way I want to remember this moment is with tears, smiles, and laughter.
“Are you sure my armpits don’t stink, Mr. Montfield?”
“I’m very sure, Miss Cowbush. Not at the moment, at any rate. But I promise I will always, always be into it anyway.”
“Eww.”
“I’m the guy who has a sheep’s butt on his wall. I’m into that.”