Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“So pretty,” I breathed, wandering closer to the view. “I didn’t realize you could be close to the city and feel like the rest of the world was so far away.”
After a moment, Bash walked up and handed me a bottle of cold beer before casually leaning against the back of one sofa.
I blinked in surprise at the drink in my hand. Had he remembered what I’d said about beer at the gala? I tried for a joke. “Is this Sterling Chase’s favorite beer?”
Bash tilted his head. “Shouldn’t you be telling me?”
I glanced nervously down at the condensation-wet bottle before taking a deep gulp. It was cold and crisp and delicious and normal. Bash watched me drink with a kind of singular focus that made it impossible for me to think of anything to say.
“You should see this area in the fall when the leaves turn,” he said finally. “I have some distant cousins who live nearby.”
“Yeah? Most of my cousins are in Indiana,” I said without thinking. Fuck. “N-not all of them, of course! My cousin Joey’s family lives here in Quee—I mean.” Sweat rolled down my back. “I mean the Upper North Side.” Wait, was there an Upper North Side? “The Upper West Side. East. East of the Upper West Side. You know, the nice area? That one. That’s where they live. Near the… park. Central Park, I believe they call it.”
I took a large gulp of the beer, waiting for an invisible clock to strike midnight and wondering where I might find a fairy godmother. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Bash shaking his head, wearing that half-smile I liked, as if he wasn’t sure whether to be amused by me or not.
I understood completely. The lying was getting out of control, and nerves made my palms slick. I could hardly remember who I was supposed to be anymore.
“Nice that your cousins are close to you,” Bash said.
“Oh yes. We’ve always been close.”
Bash seemed like he was trying not to laugh… and failing. “I meant geographically close. If you live on the Park and they live east of the Upper West Side.” He took a slow sip of his beer.
“Fine,” I snapped. “They live in Queens. There, you happy? They’re not rich. But they’re hard fucking workers. And they love me. They’d do anything for me.”
Bash’s amusement fell away, and he looked at me intently. “Good,” he said at length. “Everyone needs someone like that.”
“Well, family is family, right?” The blank look on Bash’s face made me ask hesitantly, “Is your family not that way?”
He shrugged and seemed to consider his answer before speaking. “I’m an only child, and my parents travel a lot. We get along fine, but they have different priorities. I don’t really know how to explain it. We’re not close.”
I wished he wouldn’t be so careful. I wanted to know more about the man behind Bash’s beautiful face. But I was in no position to be asking the truth from anyone.
I picked at the label on my beer bottle. “You don’t have to tell me. Sorry if I got too personal.”
Bash reached out to pull the empty bottle away from my fingers. The warmth of that tiny touch made my whole body flush with heat. “My parents are good people but… shallow. They seem to care more about their reputation than truly making a difference in the world. That’s all.”
“Oh.” I was surprised by his words. By the honesty of them. And I had no idea what to say next. Any more details about my own family would make it glaringly obvious I wasn’t Sterling, but I couldn’t stand to meet Bash’s truths with more lies.
Everything up to this point had felt like playacting. Mostly harmless to anyone except myself. But the longer I kept things up, the worse I felt. Lying to rich people for a few hours last night for the sake of my project had been one thing. But lying to Bash, the man who’d been nothing but kind and helpful, when it was possible that he was feeling this connection between us, just like I was? Nope. I couldn’t do it. The very idea made me nauseous.
“Bash, there’s something I should probably tell you—”
A firm knock sounded on the door, breaking the tension and sending my newfound resolve skittering into a million pieces.
Fuck.
A room service attendant came in with a rolling table full of domed dinner trays at the same time some other people came to deliver the suitcases, and I took the opportunity to duck into the smaller of the two bathrooms, trying to catch my breath and calm down.
No more lies, I promised myself. No more.
When I emerged, Bash beckoned me toward my seat and poured me a glass of wine. “Sorry. What were you saying before we got interrupted?”