Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
“There is still time,” Scarlett pressed.
Constance’s eyes hardened. “I love you, but this discussion is over. I’ll happily stay another hour or two, but only if you promise to let it drop.”
Every muscle in Scarlett’s body tensed, but she nodded. “I’d ask if you need to ring your section later, but I noticed your new rank,” she said with a forced smile, nodding toward the insignia on Constance’s shoulder.
“Oh.” The corners of Constance’s lips tugged upward. “It happened last week, I just hadn’t had time to see you yet.”
Scarlett rose to take the seat next to her sister. “You deserved it long before last week.”
“It’s funny, really,” Constance said with a small pucker between her eyebrows. “Robbins walked up to me after a watch, handed it to me, and simply said that my new duties would start the next day. Quite anticlimactic, really.”
Scarlett smiled in earnest this time. “Will he let you stay in?” she asked, unable to avoid the question.
Constance’s smile fell. “I think so. It turns out he doesn’t have much of a say as a civilian, since he isn’t physically fit to serve. But we both know that if I fall pregnant, well…”
“Yes, well, we know all about that.” She gave her sister’s hand a squeeze. “Since your immediate future isn’t up for discussion, what would you like to do?”
Constance’s gaze fell to the typewriter. “Did I interrupt you writing?”
Warmth flooded Scarlett’s cheeks. “It’s nothing.”
The sisters’ eyes locked, both knowing that what they’d written off as nothing really meant everything.
“I’d hate to stop you in the middle of the grand masterpiece,” Constance said, lifting her eyebrows.
“Hardly a masterpiece,” Scarlett replied as the kettle whistled.
“How about you finish up the tea, and I’ll be your personal secretary and type?”
Scarlett grinned at the impish look on her sister’s face. “You just want to sneak a peek at what I’m writing.” Nevertheless, she stood and made her way to the stove.
“Guilty,” Constance admitted, taking off her jacket and hanging it over the back of the chair before sitting in front of the typewriter. “Well,” she said, sending her sister a poignant look. “Go ahead.”
Scarlett looked her sister over, then turned her attention to the tea. She couldn’t stop this marriage. She couldn’t take the bruises from Constance’s face, nor would she ever be able to. But she could help her escape, if only for a little while.
“All right,” she agreed. “Read me the last line.”
…
Jameson brought the Spitfire down in a near perfect landing, though he felt anything but on his game. The Germans had been swift to retaliate, and the bombings had increased tenfold, if not more.
There were now three Eagle Squadrons, full of Americans ready to risk their lives. Rumor had it, by the fall, they’d all be back in American uniform, but Jameson had stopped listening to rumors ages ago.
He taxied, then turned his fighter over to the ground crew. He could’ve sworn his muscles creaked in protest as he climbed out of the cockpit. The number of hours he’d spent in the sky lately felt like they outnumbered the ones he’d spent on the ground, and his body had taken notice. It had been weeks since he’d been allowed to sleep at Scarlett’s side.
The few hours he’d managed to spend with her hadn’t been nearly enough. He missed his family with an ache so sharp, it threatened to slice him in half, but every day became more apparent that he should miss them more… That they should be as far away as possible.
“We’re off for the night,” Howard said with his arms raised in victory. “What do you say, Stanton?”
“To what?” Jameson asked as he removed his helmet.
“Let’s get out of here and blow off some steam,” Howard suggested as they headed for the hangar.
“If we are really off for the night,” Jameson said, “the only place I’m going is home.” Just the thought had his lips turning upward.
“Oh come on,” Boston chimed in, walking beside Howard with a lit cigarette in his mouth. “Get one of those…what did the Brits call them…kitchen passes.”
Howard laughed as Jameson shook his head. “What you don’t get, Boston,” Howard said with a grin, “is that Stanton here would rather go home to that gorgeous wife of his than ask for a night out with the boys.”
“The last two weeks have been a night out with the boys,” Jameson countered. “And if any of you had a woman half as good as Scarlett, you wouldn’t be so quick to ask for a kitchen pass, either.” Besides, it wasn’t just Scarlett he was going home to. William had begun crawling, the changes in his little body happening so fast that Jameson could barely keep up.
“I heard she has a sister,” Boston joked.
“A very engaged sister,” Howard replied.
Jameson’s jaw flexed. Not only was it absolutely abhorrent that Constance was marrying an ogre, but he knew the guilt of it ate Scarlett up and spat her back out daily.