Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
When he glanced up, a crooked smile curved half his mouth. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
After sliding his phone in his pocket, he said, “Toss that on the bed. The maids will take care of it.”
I did as he said, but I ignored his hand when he held it out to me.
“Layla…”
Feeling more than a little petty, I shook my head. “I told you, I haven’t forgiven you for being an asshole.”
“I know, baby bear.” He pulled me into his arms, and I tried to keep from melting into him. “But can you pretend not to hate me, at least while we talk to your parents?”
“Fine. But no funny stuff?”
“Funny stuff?”
“No kissing and keep your hands to yourself.”
“Impossible.” He nipped my chin, making me laugh and dodge his lips. “I can’t be near you without wanting to touch you. You don’t understand how deeply I’m into you. How much I crave you.”
I wanted to retort that he couldn’t ‘crave’ me all that much if he’d avoided me for three years, but that was a circular argument I didn’t have time for. My parents must be getting impatient waiting for me. While I’m sure Hannah was a marvelous hostess, Leo could be a little…off-putting. While he’d always been nice to me, I could easily imagine how intimidating he could be.
Slipping my hand into Mark’s, I said, “Let’s go.”
He led me through the palatial home, the interior silent other than the jingle of Vali and Honey’s dog tags.
I barely paid attention to where we were going, more focused on the feeling of Mark’s hand in my own than anything else. When we reached what looked like a stylish, modern parlor done in shades of pale lemon and lavender, I almost got swept off my feet by a tiny redheaded tornado.
“Layla!” my mom practically screamed in my ear as she flung her arms around me. “Thank God you’re all right.”
“Sweetheart.” My dad, much bigger than my diminutive mom and myself, enveloped both of us in one of his massive hugs.
At barely five-foot, my mom looked like a pixie compared to my over six-foot tall dad. As they released me, I gave them a watery smile. My usually perfectly dressed mom was completely disheveled this morning in what looked like a pair of yoga pants and a sleep shirt. My dad wasn’t much better, his normally carefully styled silver hair sticking up in clumps. His ordinarily smooth shaved face sported a thick silver and black shadow. When he leaned down to pet Vali, I noticed he wore his favorite beat-up sheepskin slippers.
“Dad? Are you wearing pajamas?”
My dad looked down at himself then grimaced. “Yes. We got the call that your house was on fire while we were still in bed.”
My mom began to cry, and I held her close as my dad turned around and rubbed at his face.
“We thought you were dead!” my mom wailed as she clutched me. “We thought you were dead…I love you so much, honey. So, so much.”
That made me start crying. When a pair of strong arms wrapped around us, it wasn’t my dad this time, it was Mark. His scent, somehow mixed with my own from our time together, washed over me, enveloping me in delicious safety.
“She’s okay,” he said in a low, thick voice. “She was here with me all night.”
My mom’s sobs petered off and she hiccupped. “She was with you? I thought she was spending the night with Hannah and Mr. Brass?”
“Leo,” my dad reminded her. “He said we could call him Leo, sweetie.”
Once again, my mom released me, but Mark still held me close. As my parents looked at us together, the sorrow left their faces, replaced by bright, goofy smiles. Inwardly, I groaned as they exchanged a look, their smiles getting bigger.
When I say my parents loved Mark, I wasn’t kidding. My interest in him as more than a friend was obvious to anyone who spent any time around me, and they’d been pestering me forever to get together with Mark. After the first few times Mark had stood me up, I let them believe that the reason we never met was my decision. It was easier on my ego that way. Nobody wants their parents to think they’re losers.
They knew ‘something’ had happened between Mark, and I a few weeks ago, but they didn’t know what. They’d tried to get me to talk about it, but I said that people grow apart, and I didn’t want to discuss it. At the top of my voice. Dad stopped badgering me after that, but my mom still kept up a not so subtle stream of hints that life was too short to hold a grudge. See, my mom and dad were blissfully happy together, and she wanted that same happiness for me.
So, despite her tears, when she smiled at Mark, it was full of genuine warmth. “Mark! It’s such a pleasure to see you!”