Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“I would love to meet her,” I say, and I look up at the door to see Francis standing there with a huge vase of pink roses. “Just tell me when, and I’ll clear my schedule,” I say, and we hang up. “What is all that?” I ask Francis, who is joined by Trevor, who carries another vase of white roses in his hands.
“We should be asking you that question,” he says, putting down the vase in the middle of my desk. “Not one but two,” he says, and I look at them in shock as I grab the first little white envelope.
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” I say, taking out the small white card and reading it.
Becca,
I owe you Italy.
Maybe one day.
Nico
I smile and grab the other envelope. The smile hurts my cheeks, but I can’t help it. My hands are shaking as I pull out the other card.
Becca,
Let go.
I’ll catch you.
N
I have to sit down after I read the last one. Looking up at my brothers, I say, “Can I just have one second to just …” I can’t even right now. My heart is pounding so hard I have to put my hand on my chest.
I force myself to get up and walk to the bathroom off of my office. Closing the door, I’m hit with flashbacks from last night. I spent all night reliving it in my dreams, and it’s coming back again.
“I can’t give up control,” I told him, ignoring all the screaming going on in my head. “I don’t know why.” I took another sip of wine. “But for you, I might try.”
He looked at me, his eyes turning a light blue, and I swear if he looked at me like that all the time, I might do whatever he wants me to. “I’ll catch you,” he told me, and then the waitress came by, and for the rest of the meal, we tiptoed around whatever that moment was. We both wanted to talk about what just happened, but we were afraid to have the words out there in the universe. He paid the bill, and when we walked out, our hands grazed each other’s. He didn’t reach for my hand, and it bothered me. I could have grabbed his, but I was hanging on by a string. I had never been in this type of situation, and I had no idea what the rules of the game were. I don’t think he knew, either.
When he pulled up to my building, I looked over at him, taking off my seat belt. “Thank you, Nico,” I said and then smirked. “It’s no Italy, but it was almost like I was there.”
He laughed, and I thought he was going to lean over and kiss me. I had hoped he would, but instead, he just looked at me. “One day, Becca,” he said, and before I could even say anything, the doorman had opened the door. I walked into my building without looking back. But I felt eyes on me, and when I stood in front of the elevator doors, I saw him from the corner of my eyes. He was standing next to his SUV as he watched me. I turned for just a second before stepping onto the elevator, and it was the last thing I saw.
“We’re still here.” I hear Francis say, and I shake my head, looking at myself in the mirror, my cheeks just a touch flushed. I wet my hand with cold water and place my palms on them to cool down. I take one more look at myself before unlocking the door.
I walk out with my head held high and my shoulders back. “What is with you two?” I say, trying to avoid their eyes. “Don’t you have work to do?” I don’t want them to see how affected I was by the flowers. I put on my poker face right before I turn to them.
“Oh, trust me, I have work to do,” Trevor says to me, “but this is a little bit …” He holds his hands out as he thinks of what to say.
“More entertaining,” Francis says, going to one of my empty chairs in front of my desk and sitting down. “So …”
“So, what?” I say, sitting down. I pick up the notes in front of me and put them in my top drawer. Then I get back up and smell the flowers. Grabbing one vase, I walk over to the table in the corner and put it in the middle. “I helped a friend.”
“You helped a friend, and he sends you fifty roses?” Francis tilts his head to the side, and from his tone, it’s more like yeah, right.
“Is this who I think it is?” Trevor asks. He’s always the one who does the thinking between the two of them. Whereas Francis is I’m jumping off the roof, Trevor is going to list the reasons he shouldn’t. Even though Francis is older, Trevor usually has the better sense.