Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Can you come up Thursday night?”
“Friday night.”
“I’ll call you tonight with details. Faith?”
“Yes?”
“You’re an artist. My artist.” He hangs up.
I smile. I think it’s my first real smile since my mother died. And for the first time in years, I am filled with possibilities, for my art and for this man who’s taken my life by storm. And the possibilities are amazing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Faith
Friday afternoon comes quickly, but not quickly enough, and brings me to my house to pack, since I’ve been staying here all week. And I stayed here despite the fact that the winery has been crazy busy, but none of it has been collection calls. Nick assures me he has things under control and that I should trust him until he can give me a full update in person. And I do. I tell myself it’s because he’s an amazing attorney, and he is, but after spending hours on the phone with each other every night, it’s the man I’m connecting with, not the attorney. And while our conversations have been more about our youths, his school and mine, it’s groundwork. It’s a path to more. It certainly brings more to my canvas. I start a new canvas. The gardens. My mother’s gardens. It’s somehow therapeutic.
But it’s staying here, and I’m heading to San Francisco, where I hope maybe I’ll get news of those sales that I still hear are pending, but I’ve had no confirmation. I’d really like to hear about the L.A. show, too, but Josh swears I’ve not been ruled out yet. More so, I am going to the Chris Merit event, with Nick by my side. Nervous and excited, I pack my weekend bag and fret over what to wear tonight. Nick wants to stay in at his place and have quality time together, so jeans should work. But jeans feel so plain. I’ve finally decided on black dress pants and a pink silk blouse when my doorbell rings. Dread that the bill collectors are back fills me, and I walk to the door to find a delivery driver standing there.
Frowning because I’ve ordered nothing, I open the door.
“Faith Winter?”
“Yes.”
“For you.”
He hands me a big box, and my stomach flutters because I know this is from Nick. “Thank you.” I sign for it and carry it to the kitchen, where I set it on the counter. Feeling ridiculously nervous, considering it’s a package, I cut away the tape and paper and find a beautiful silver box inside. I open it to find a card on top with neat, masculine script that reads: Faith.
I open the card.
I was going to send this earlier in the week, but I decided that if it pisses you off, I’ll see you in a few hours to fight that battle in person. But know this. I’m happy to rip this version up, too, as long as it’s on you at the time. And I owed you a pair of panties anyway.
I actually hope you want me to rip it off you again.
All of it.
Looking forward to it and you,
Nick
I set the card aside and pull back the paper to first find gorgeous royal blue lace panties that I do not want him to rip. They’re too beautiful. Beneath them is a dress. I pull it from the box, and while it’s not an exact replica of the one that was destroyed, it’s close. I inhale and let it out. I wait for that feeling of being bought, but even with this and Nick flying me to San Francisco, I don’t feel that. Maybe because he’s done these things just because. Not to make up for something. And the dress. He turned it into something we shared and will share again. He made it special.
I gather everything up and walk into the bedroom. And right before I pack the panties, I take a picture of them and, laughing, text it to Nick with the words: New challenge. And I love the dress. Thank you, Nick.
He calls me. “You’re not mad.”
“No. Because you made it…about us.”
“There’s a lot of us going on this weekend, sweetheart. The plane is waiting on you. Hurry the hell up. The pilot is going to call me when you take off.”
“I’m leaving here in fifteen minutes.”
“See you soon, Faith Winter.”
There is a deep, raspy quality to his voice that I feel from head to toe. “See you soon, Nick Rogers.”
He ends the call.
With a grin on my face, I finish packing. I’m about to leave when I open the nightstand by my bed and find the card from my father. I still haven’t read it. I stare at the script, and I shake myself before stuffing it in my purse. I need to read it, and I might just need that spanking I mentioned. I don’t know that I want to be under Nick’s hand to forget something this weekend, though. I think I’d rather be there just because. Still, I decide to leave the card in my purse.