Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
And then I’d had the strangest thought. A few weeks ago, before my recent adventures, before Fin and the wedding and all that has entailed, I probably would’ve paused in a different way. I would’ve seen my reflection and felt . . . not enough. Not good enough.
Business is good, and I’m obviously feeling that success. But it’s more than that. I just can’t quite put my finger on it.
“We do love it here.” The couple exchanges a fond look. “And thank you again for seeing us so soon. We just left everything so late, and we’re scrambling to catch up.”
“Don’t worry. It’ll all come together beautifully. Life usually does.” Even as I say the words, I feel a pang of regret. If life always works out, why aren’t Fin and I speaking yet?
Because we’re both smarting still is the obvious answer. Because neither of us wants to make the first move. We left things at such a bad point the other night, and now we’re like ships passing in the night in his beautiful home. He’s taking care to keep out of my way, and I’m taking care to be busy. While trying not to overthink.
He said some things. I said some too. I want to be able to trust him completely, but I can’t seem to get out of my own head. And yet . . .
I shake off the thoughts.
“I’m so looking forward to working with you.” I paint on my professional smile to allow us to say our goodbyes. And the pair leaves.
Love. I sigh heavily. It feels like such a four-letter word right now. As in hard.
But love is also hope. It might even be a cure for the past. The more I think about what Fin said, the more I begin to doubt my own reaction. Love is a leap, I think, consternation rippling across my brow. But it’s also the ultimate peak—the summit. To love and be loved in return.
Love is the goal, for many. For Fin? For me.
Love is the beat of his heart. It’s warm, like his body. Dear, like him. Love is in his kiss. His hold. In the cove of his arms, my cave, it’s where I feel most safe.
Love is a gift. It makes a heart feel glad. Love is kind.
It’s the giving of your soul to another and expecting nothing back in return. But having hope. Yes, love is hope. And love is . . .
“Mila?”
I pivot, shocked at the sound of Evie’s voice. “Hi,” I begin, my mind swimming with thoughts, my eyes swimming in tears. “It’s so nice to see you.”
“You too. Another soon-to-be-happy couple?” she questions, her gaze following the future bride and groom, crossing the marble reception.
“Yes. This is apparently their favorite hotel in London.”
“I’ll be sure to tell Oliver.” She gives a tinkling laugh. “You don’t know? Oliver owns the place. We spent the early days of our relationship living here together.”
“Oh.”
“I know. Living in a hotel. How extravagant! And how ridiculous, with this thing.” She glances back, and I notice a dog sitting almost at her heels, its coat curly and eyes intelligent. “What on earth was I thinking?”
“About living in a hotel?”
“And bringing Bo along. Although, at the time, he was part of my diabolically cunning plan to annoy Oliver. But that’s another story,” she adds, with a mischievous-looking smile. “Have you got time for a coffee?”
I do have time, and while I feel the urge to seek out Fin, to sort this out—to tell him I see what he’s doing and that I’m sorry I reacted the way that I did—I also like Evie. She’s a woman’s woman, if that makes sense. I suppose I want us to be friends.
A reel of images slips through my mind. Dinners, outings, holidays. Fin’s friends becoming mine. Don’t put the cart before the horse, I tell myself as I follow her through the hotel’s stylish halls.
The hotel’s decor is moody and sort of sexy—vintage chandeliers, parlor palms, and vermilion velvet walls. She leads us out into the orangery, the light suffused by billowing fabric that, along with huge potted palms, makes me think of One Thousand and One Nights.
A server is beckoned and our order placed, and we settle into an easy flow of conversation. Evie tells me about the stately home the couple has recently taken on and the charity work she undertakes, as well as regaling me with tales of their wayward rescue dog, who seems to hang on her every word. Until I realize what he’s actually hanging out for is his share of the petit four. But the way Evie describes it, Bo the doggy seems to live for the sole purpose of making Oliver’s life difficult.
“Is that man wearing a velvet jacket?” I find myself saying as a man walks by.