Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
So I spent every night in Hutton’s arms, woke up next to him every morning, and desperately tried not to think about the day it would all be over—all good things must come to an end, right?
I threw myself into work.
I responded to lots of inquiries about catering and booked half a dozen new jobs for the fall. I created new recipes and took stunning photos in Hutton’s kitchen. I took phone calls regarding some of the offers for collaboration that had come in.
Hutton spent a lot of time alone in his office getting ready for the hearing, but he’d warned me on the flight home from New York that would happen. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It will seem like I don’t care or like I’m self-obsessed, but that’s not it. When something like this is hanging over my head, I just get really focused. I can’t think about anything else.”
“I get it,” I told him. “And you don’t have to apologize or worry about me. Concentrate on you.”
He wasn’t exaggerating—I hardly saw him the week after we got home. And when I did, he was quiet and introspective. But we still had mind-blowing S-E-X before falling asleep in each other’s arms every night, and in many ways, it was the happiest I’d ever been.
It was also the most terrified.
Which made me crazy mad at myself. Because it’s not like I didn’t know what was going to happen. It wasn’t like walking into my bedroom imagining there might be a witch about to jump out—the fucking witch was in there and I knew precisely when she’d show her face. This thing with Hutton had an expiration date.
Every time I booked a catering gig for the fall, I’d think, He’ll be gone by then, and my stomach would pitch and roll. My breath would catch.
But it was fine. I was fine.
Until the voicemails.
The first one came on Monday. I waited three days to listen to it, which I did sitting in my car in the grocery store parking lot.
“Felicity, darling, it’s Mom. I heard the big news! At first I just couldn’t believe it—it seemed so unlikely for you—but I’ve seen the photos and don’t you two look cute together? And wow, a billionaire. That’s really something. I’m sure your father is happy about that. He’ll never have to worry about money again, right?” (Unkind laughter.) “Anyway, I’m dying to talk to you. Give me a call, it’s been too long.”
I was fuming by the time I got to the end. Unlikely for me? My father happy about the money? It’s been too long?
“Not long enough,” I snapped, deleting the message.
Later that night, as we were getting ready for bed, Hutton asked me what was wrong.
“Nothing,” I said, unable to meet his eyes. I opened a dresser drawer and messed around in it, not looking for anything.
“You’ve been so quiet tonight. Actually, all week.”
“Have I? Sorry.” I shut the drawer and took off my glasses so I could rub my eyes. “Just tired, I guess.”
“Hey.” He came over and turned me into his arms, the place where I felt safest in the world. “Talk to me. I know I’m distracted with work, but I’m still here for you.”
I wrapped my arms around his middle and pressed my cheek to his bare chest. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him about the voicemail from Carla, but I didn’t want to do it. Hutton had enough to worry about—the hearing was only a week away. I refused to add more stress to his life. “It’s nothing. I promise.”
She left two more messages over the weekend, whining that I hadn’t called her back, reminding me she was still my mother, and faking enthusiasm for my wedding. “I just can’t wait to meet a real billionaire,” she said. “And I’m dying to see that rock up close. It looks huge. Is he paying for out-of-town guests to stay somewhere nice?”
I deleted them both immediately, mad at myself for even listening.
Monday night, Winnie asked me to come over and help her create a vegetarian menu for a wine dinner she and Ellie were planning at Abelard. Glad for the distraction, I spent the evening at her condo helping her plan, eating takeout, and sipping wine. Hutton had said he needed to work late, so I lingered at Winnie’s, envying the easy affection between her and Dex. What would it be like to know you could have forever together?
I left around nine, and my phone rang just as I got behind the wheel. I should have checked the number before answering.
“Hello?”
“Finally,” Carla said, slurring the word a little. “I was wondering when I’d actually get you.”
Fuck, I mouthed, closing my eyes. “What do you want?”
“I want to talk.”
“About what?”
“About life.” She laughed drunkenly. “About this wedding thing. Why would you want to get married anyway? You’re too young.”