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)
Thatcher is unflinching. He’s used to these impassioned declarations, but not directed his way. Yet, this hardly seems to bother him.
I frown a little—there is guilt knowing that I’ve traded the suitors who were only interested in me for crowds that are now obsessed with him and us.
We all look back at each other, and they spot my unease.
“They’re harmless.” Farrow lifts his aviators to his head, pushing back his platinum hair. “That girl isn’t going to force herself on Moretti. But the sick dipshits who think they have a shot with you…” He raises his brows.
“They’re threats,” Thatcher says curtly.
“True.” I tip my head towards Thatcher.
“And those potential stalkers are gone ,” Maximoff emphasizes to me, his strong arm across Farrow’s shoulders.
I want to mention that 35% still remain. Just to be more specific. None of these threats concern me because stalkers will always exist, and I trust our security team to handle them. But I can see that Maximoff wants me to feel safe. And I do, especially with Thatcher so close.
So I don’t mention the statistics.
Thatcher looks down at me, and as added reassurance, he says, “It’s better this way, Jane.”
“Maybe not for you,” I point out.
He shakes his head, his brows drawn together. “Eliminating anyone who wants to hurt you is the better path for me.”
He sounds incredibly sincere. I trust him. And I’m fortunate to have him. “That’s…” I grapple for words that tumble in my head. “You know, I…” I take a breath. “I like…”
You.
I clear my throat. “I like that you feel that way.”
Thatcher starts to smile. Really and truly, and then he threads our fingers, his hand so much larger than mine.
My pulse speeds, and I glance back at Maximoff and Farrow. “Have you two decided on a couple’s Halloween costume yet?” I know Moffy has been leaning towards a superhero pairing, but he’s also wanted to see what Farrow would choose.
“No,” Maximoff says. “Because Farrow is being an asshole and leaving this shit up to me.”
Farrow rolls his eyes into a wider smile, staring at Maximoff with such pure love. “You want me to hold your hand and walk you through this shit because I will, but only for you.”
Maximoff grimaces and smiles all at once. Trying to hide his affections. I give my best friend a weak 4 out of 10 this time, deductions for poor effort.
He’s suddenly more rigid, his forest-green eyes on me. “You and Thatcher are picking out couple costumes too, right? You haven’t said anything about it.”
“I don’t know if it’s up to me,” I say. “I’m assuming security will need to verify whatever we choose?” I look up at Thatcher for confirmation.
“I already asked,” Thatcher tells me, more than he speaks to Moffy. “The team agreed on no couple costumes.” His voice is strict, and his chest is tight like this isn’t news he wanted. But he has to obey.
Maximoff growls, “What, why?”
“Is there a reason?” I ask too, not expecting this kind of finality from security.
Thatcher lowers his voice. “They said it’s probable that our breakup will happen before Halloween.” His gaze softens a fraction on me.
That soon? October just began. My eyes grow in shock. “Wow.” I let go of his hand and tuck a flyaway frizzed hair behind my ear. “Well, I suppose this isn’t terrible…we have a clearer timeline to work with now.”
The bottom of my stomach has dropped, and I wish it’d float back to its proper anatomical position, please.
His chest concaves with a constricted breath, and he’s about to speak—but Maximoff beats him to it. “Just tell the team that Jane wants this to go past October.”
“I tried at the meeting,” Thatcher explains. “Farrow did too.”
My lungs swell, liking that they’re both on my side. Even if the outcome isn’t necessarily what I would’ve hoped for, and anyway, it was presumptuous to expect to spend Halloween with my fake boyfriend.
There was always going to be an end.
But we just started.
“They said probable , right?” Maximoff says, on edge. “So it’s not set in stone, and if you and Farrow really hammer in the fact that Jane wants this—”
“What I want and she wants doesn’t fucking matter,” Thatcher says tightly. “Our feelings aren’t important to security’s op. That’s just how it is.”
I’ve understood this part, but Maximoff is like my heart fighting for something deeper inside me that I can’t even unearth. I wonder if Banks were here, if he’d be fighting for something deeper inside Thatcher too.
Maximoff crosses his arms. “So security related: if this is a shotgun breakup, all the stalkers outside will just come back. Tell them that.”
“We did,” Thatcher says sternly. “The leads don’t want to risk more exposure to SFO. They think me being with Jane longer than necessary will draw too much attention to the rest of the team.”