Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“You want a normal boyfriend?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I want dates, not obligations. Not society events. I want to date where I can actually get to know the man I’m with, and I don’t have to worry about hiding from anyone. I want something that can grow into something real, not something that started off… with me as a pawn in someone else’s plot.”
“Okay,” I said with a shrug, as I reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of her face. “Let me try.”
“You want to try?”
“I want you,” I corrected. “If you tell me you need normal, then I will give you normal. I’m not asking you to marry me. Nothing beyond one date to prove myself. I’m not asking for you to leave school or anything like that. I’m only asking you to give me a chance. Can you do that for me, angel?” I picked up her hand from her lap and kissed the inside of her palm. “Please, angel, let me show you what I’m like without my baggage holding me back.”
She looked uncertain.
Her eyes darted around the cemetery, then back to her painting, then to my face. Over and over, while she tried to figure out what she was going to do.
“Only one date,” she said finally, and a weight was lifted off my shoulders. I had a chance to show her she needed me.
“One date. But I get to plan it?”
She nodded. “But I want it to be a first date. A good one. I want us to talk, and I don’t want you to assume that—”
“I will plan the date, I will keep it PG-rated, and it’ll be somewhere that we can talk and get to know each other. Is that what you want? To see what I would be like as a normal boyfriend?”
She nodded.
That was all I needed. I asked for a chance, and that was exactly what she gave me. One chance.
CHAPTER 40
ROSE
What the hell was I doing?
Thomas had texted me that morning with an address in Notting Hill, in an area called Little Venice.
The address had to be wrong. I was standing on the side of the canal looking around, completely confused.
“Rose,” his voice called, and I turned to see Thomas in a white cable-knit sweater and torn jeans, barefooted. My God, did he carry off “normal” clothes. I asked for a normal boyfriend, but for some reason, I didn’t think he could do it.
He looked good in torn jeans, but they just didn’t look like him. Still, he was unbelievably handsome, his eyes appearing darker in contrast to the white cable-knit sweater, his curls a little wild instead of combed back.
He was standing on a houseboat and reaching his hand out to help me board it.
“Where are we?” I asked, taking his hand.
“I figured we would have dinner here on the boat. It would be a romantic night, kind of sweet, and we could talk about whatever you want.”
“That sounds… lovely, actually,” I said, surprised. It really seemed like a date that he put a lot of thought into.
We were surrounded by other houseboats, so there were plenty of people to hear me scream if I needed to. I was safe, but we still had some privacy. We could talk and get to know each other without worrying about other people overhearing us or, worse, if the paparazzi found out that the Manwarring priest left the priesthood and decided that they just needed to get a photo.
The entire evening, Thomas was annoyingly perfect. He was sweet, attentive. When the winter breeze on the water was too intense, he lit a fire in the little fire pit for us to sit and warm ourselves by. He even had the hot chocolate brand that I loved from New York.
“So, how are your new classes?” he asked, and I narrowed my eyes, wondering if he really cared. The old Thomas wouldn’t have cared, but I did promise to give him a chance, so I guessed that meant I had to give him the benefit of the doubt?
“Classes are great,” I said with a wide smile. “They’re challenging, definitely, and I feel like I’m just playing catch-up since I came in a semester late and all the other students are already so far ahead of me. But I think I’m catching up? At least the instructor seems to be impressed with my progress.”
“That sounds amazing. What are you intending to do with your degree once you get it?” he asked, and there was no judgment behind his question.
He was actually asking what I intended to do with an art degree. Not implying it was a frivolous degree for a woman to get while looking for a husband.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “When I originally applied, it was to learn as much as I could about art, and I just assumed that eventually I would marry someone Mother picked out and art would be a hobby or a passion. But now that I don’t have her controlling my life, and I’m seeing what other people are doing, like Amelia with her school… it opens up so many more opportunities I had never even considered.”