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)
But we’ve also bantered and shared jokes, with me calling her Miss Mystery and Alice throwing Mr. Hollywood right back at me.
I haven’t mentioned that I don’t want her to be Miss anything…
I want her to be Mrs.
Mrs. Wyatt.
Almost, I reply. How are things at the office?
Aurora has got me doing all the grunt work, but I think I will be able to keep my job for now. I’ve got no idea what she’s planning to say about the Kennedy situation.
I shrug as if my woman’s here and we’re talking in person. It was a frantic rush after the meeting… booking a flight, going to the airport, and getting ready for the show.
I had no alone time with Alice, no chance to wrap my arms around her again, to draw her close and kiss her with the passion she endlessly provokes in me.
I’m just glad you know the truth, I reply. I know it must’ve been difficult for you.
I thought I was just another one of your women.
I meant what I said in the office, I text quickly. I don’t have any women. It’s just you.
It’s words like these that should remind me to be cautious, declarations that are going to tell her I’m free for the taking… if she was a social-climbing woman intent on bagging herself an actor, it’s exactly this sort of thing that would entice her.
But I can’t keep torturing myself with those sorts of thoughts.
Maybe, deep down, I’m simply worried she won't feel the same.
Not because of my fame, or my money, or anything like that.
Just because of me.
But it’s a chance I have to take.
I think about the show, wondering if I’ve got it in me, wondering if it’s the best way….
That means a lot to me, she replies. I know it’s only been a little while, and I know we’ve mostly talked via text, but this feels like it matters, you know? It feels like it means something.
Walking across the living room, I drop into the chair, my heart pounding with the force of her words, my chest getting tight with the love flowing through me.
The word love almost makes me laugh since, surely, it’s impossible to use a phrase like that at this stage.
And yet, I can’t deny there’s a flickering there… one that will easily turn into an ember, then a full-scale fire if we keep talking, kissing, and getting close.
I’ve got a confession to make, I reply.
Oh?
I imagine a shudder moving through her, her features going anxious and tight.
It makes me want to be there with her, to hold her, kiss her gently and tell her she never has to worry, not when she has me to protect her.
When we first started texting, I type, unable to sit still, pacing around the hotel suite. When I was calling you Miss Mystery… I already knew who you were.
What? How?
I swallow, running a hand through my hair, knowing I’m crossing all the lines here.
Knowing there’s no going back.
But whatever happens now, I need to stand by this connection we’re building, and I can’t do that based on a lie.
I asked Aurora for your number. So when you texted me, I already knew it was you.
But why did you ask her? my woman presses, and I imagine her voice getting sassy in that way which captivates me and makes me think about our future children and how she’ll become a tigress to protect them.
Because I thought – no, knew – you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I wanted to know more about you, to…
I pause in my texting, warning myself not to go too far even if the thought of there being such a thing as too far with us seems absurd.
To maybe meet up with you, date, and see where things go. But at the same time, I didn’t want to rush into anything.
Because you thought I might be a user? she texts.
I imagine her tone as bitter, and I’m about to reply, but then she sends another. I get it, though. A man in your position probably has women throwing themselves at him all the time. And it’s like you said. How can you know? But I swear, Weston, I don’t care about the money, the fame, or any of it.
My jaw clenches as I struggle to take in her words.
At all? I reply. It’s difficult to separate a person from everything else surrounding them. There was no way to know you’d still want me if I were some average guy working an average job.
Yes, there is, she responds right away. Because when I saw you in the office, it was nothing like the movies. I didn’t see an actor. I just saw a man… a man who interested me, who made me obsess over him a little.
I read the last part of her text, wondering how somebody can be obsessed a little.