Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“N-42!”
“BINGO!” Two women shout at nearly the same time. Groans fill the hall and tears of paper.
We have time as the caller verifies the bingo and goes to the next round. Five to ten minutes. People already talk and stand to use the restroom and to grab chow.
Maximoff and Farrow finally turn their heads back to us.
I let it out. “Jane and I are having sex.”
“No shit.” Farrow pops a chip in his mouth.
“For real,” Jane whispers, probably thinking he thinks we’re playing into the fake dating op. “I love sex, and these past few weeks, Thatcher and I have found ourselves inexplicably tangled together. In bed, and more metaphorically, and because we love sex, which I already mentioned, and…say something, please.” She’s looking at Maximoff, who’s stoic and harder to read.
He lifts his squared shoulders. “I don’t know…Farrow kept telling me you two were banging, and I feel like a fucking idiot not believing the signs.” He winces, holding her gaze. “But I just thought that you’d tell me, Janie. Nowhere in my mind did I think you wouldn’t. And I know you’re telling me now…I’m just confused why you wouldn’t sooner. You felt like I’d be angry? I’m not, I’m not .” He tries to reassure her quickly.
“It’s not that.” She shakes her head repeatedly, blinking back tears. “I knew you’d be terribly happy if I’m happy, and I am.”
Good to hear. Except that this has an ending. You knew this couldn’t last, Thatcher.
Don’t stop forgetting that.
I have to partially listen to comms. Farrow looks to his three o’clock. We’re being given details on the crowds outside.
Growing hostile.
Jane touches her heart. “You and Farrow just found yourselves free of all secrets. You’re the happiest I’ve seen you, and I didn’t want you to have to skirt around the security team again. Especially while you’re in pre-wedding bliss.”
Farrow smiles teasingly at Maximoff.
He groans. “I’m in pre-wedding nothing. We haven’t even figured out a wedding location, and if this is going to put distance between us, then you need to tell me what I can do to fix it. Because I want you to feel like you can come to me and share things with me right when you want to share them. Not because you feel like you can’t.”
Jane takes a strong breath and reaches out to touch his hand. “Can we make a promise? Don’t shut me out of your wedding planning because you feel like my life takes precedence, and I’ll share my life with you because I want to—and you truly have no idea just how unequivocally I am dying to.”
They’re both already standing and hugging across the table. They talk to each other more quietly.
I lower my voice and nod to Farrow who lights a cigarette. “Did you tell anyone else you thought me and her were having sex?”
“Fuck no,” he says, blowing smoke off to the side. He slides me the pack.
It’s a small peace offering that I don’t deserve. But I take out a cigarette.
“Your family is getting harassed in South Philly.” That’s why he’s treating me like a friend. Because he just went through this.
I nod once. Journalists keep knocking on my mom’s door, and more recently, paparazzi have trailed her car. “My uncles are taking care of it.” I light a cigarette, taking a short drag. Most guys on the team are recreational smokers. Some are habitual, or like my brother, trying to kick it.
On-duty and off.
It helps us stay awake.
I hawk-eye the entrance, and before the bingo caller starts the next round soon, I ask Farrow, “How’d you know about Jane and me?”
Jane and Maximoff sit back down. Hearing this.
“We’ve been careful,” Jane whispers to us, “and we’ll continue to be.”
I’m not bringing up the end-date. Neither is she.
Farrow blows a line of smoke away from Maximoff. “I’m a bodyguard and I notice shit.”
I grit down because that doesn’t bode well for keeping this secret from the team. I glance at Jane, and she sends me an alarmed look.
She scoots forward toward Farrow. “You think the rest of security will find out?”
“No.” He taps ash. “Because I’m the only bodyguard who lives in the same townhouse as you. See, you came downstairs every morning with a giddy as fuck smile like you just got laid. And not from a sex toy.”
Jane downs the rest of her root beer, then tells me, “If I’d known I have a terrible post-sex poker-face, I would’ve practiced.”
I wish I could’ve seen her those mornings.
Don’t wish that. “It makes this easier,” I tell Jane. She knows I’m referring to them already slightly knowing, but as far as Farrow and me… “You don’t care that I’m sleeping with her?”
“I’m not your mom or your conscience, Moretti. But you are a fucking hypocrite.”
I nod. Not disagreeing. “You need me to tattoo it on my ass?”