Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
It’s a new start. A new life.
I love you, I type, and then stare at the words.
They’re true. They’re the truest words I’ve ever thought, typed, and said, in fact.
But I’m not sure I want to tell her over text.
I look at the ring box sitting on the dashboard.
CHAPTER 24
Alice
“Are you serious?” Natasha asks, walking around the open-plan apartment, taking in the tall windows, the gleaming surfaces, and the general newness of it all. “I can live here… on my own, long term?”
“I’ll be checking in on you,” I tell her, offering her a smile. “But yeah, Weston says he wants to help me… and help you since you’re so important to me. Even if you did do a very mean thing.”
It’s only been a few hours since we had our discussion, but Weston moves fast. He contacted the real estate people and arranged for a long-term lease, meaning Natasha didn’t have to return to our old apartment.
Weston has even agreed to have his lawyers handle the termination of our original lease.
You know, I texted him when he told me. This is exactly the sort of thing a user would dream of… so if you tell us no or you want to hold off, I’ll get it.
I trust you, he replied. I want you. I need you. Later, I’m going to take you somewhere.
He still hasn’t told me where.
Natasha spins around, a big grin on her face, bringing me back to the present.
She strides across the shining floor and throws her arms around me.
“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I had no idea anything was going on between you two. I wouldn’t have….”
“Hush,” I reply, squeezing her tightly. “How could you know? How could you even suspect? It’s not as if men like Weston go for women like me all the time.”
“He’s the lucky one,” Natasha says.
I laugh. “I’m not sure about that.”
“He is. You’re so good, the best sister a woman could ask for.”
Natasha distances herself from me, a soft frown on her face.
“What is it?” I ask.
“A friend said something interesting recently,” she replies. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s psychobabble, but it’s got me thinking.”
“What did she say?” I ask.
“You know Jeneva? She’s studying psychology… or babble, depending on how you want to think of it.”
I smile.
“She said,” Natasha goes on, “that the fact Mom was so proud of me for being a cheerleader, and the fact she was always calling me beautiful, stuff like that, might have something to do with me wanting all this surgery. I’m not sure if that’s true, but it might be worth looking into.”
I try to suppress any outward signs of hope, not wanting to rush her into anything.
“Are you saying you might be ready to talk to someone?”
Natasha nods. “I think so. But he’s been so generous already. I don’t want to ask for money for a therapist.”
“I get that,” I reply. “I find all of this crazy. I just want him, love him….”
“You love him?” Natasha cuts in.
“Of course I do,” I say, beaming, feeling like I’m flooding with light. “I love everything about Weston. I love how he makes me feel like I don’t have to be the same person I’ve always been. I don’t have to spend my life worrying, stressing, wondering what could happen. With him at my side, I can do it… do anything. There are a million other reasons too.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Natasha says.
“I’ll ask him about therapy. I can’t imagine him saying no, but I don’t want to take any of this for granted. It’s not about the money.”
“I can see that,” Natasha says. “It’s all about love.”
I grin, and then my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Natasha laughs when my hand instinctively goes for it.
“It’s okay,” she says. “I know you’ll die if you don’t check it.”
I grin. “Thanks, sis.”
It’s the most welcome sight, a text from my man.
Pack an overnight bag, Weston texts.
Why? Where are we going?
There’s somewhere I want to take you… it might not seem like the most romantic place, but hopefully, the hotel's penthouse suite will make up for it afterward. But it’s meaningful where we’re going. I hope you understand.
I thought I was supposed to be the mysterious one, I reply. I might start calling you Mr. Mystery.
We spent the flight and the car ride bantering, holding each other, talking about possible plans for my traffic safety campaigns. Aurora has agreed to let me have a little time off until the paparazzi's attention has dwindled, and it feels good.
Being able to take time off without constantly worrying about what will happen after, the disaster at the edges.
We were laughing, but now, as we walk down the lonely stretch of road in Montana, Weston has become serious.
I know from his publicly available information that he’s from Montana, and that gives me an inkling of where we’re going.