Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
“If that’s the case, maybe I’m against blue balls, too.” His fingers splay across the curve between my butt and my thigh. “Fundamentally.”
I don’t breathe. My heart thumps heavily in my chest. Is he saying…are we going to…is he…
Before I can ask, Henrietta rushes around the corner, eyes slightly panicked behind her glasses.
“Trevor, here you are.” Her eyes drift to me and then snap back to her boss. “Oh, Sofie. I didn’t realize you were coming tonight.”
She doesn’t sound too pleased about it. What’s with her? Is it just my reputation? I gave her the benefit of the doubt the last time she was rude to me. Once more, and she’ll find that when they call me a bitch, it’s justified.
Trevor’s hand moves slowly up to my back and a frown settles on his face.
“What’s up, Hen?”
“Um…I don’t think…” Her eyes shift to me again, hesitation on her face and in her voice.
“What’s wrong?” Trevor’s frown deepens. “Just spit it out.”
“Okay.” She gives him a look that says you asked for it. “Fleur’s here.”
“And that’s a problem?” he asks.
“She’s at our table.” Henri’s poor eyebrows look like they might fight their way through her hairline if they go any higher. “Like, now, at our table.”
“It’s fine, Henri.” He flicks his chin back toward the ballroom. “Go on back in. We’re right behind you. Just give us a second.”
As soon as Henri turns to leave, I ask the question that got lost in everything that’s happened since the Restore luncheon we attended two days ago.
“Who’s Fleur?” I caress the lapels of his tuxedo, eyes fixed on his bow tie. “Halima mentioned her the other day, too.”
He glides his hands over my arms and down to rest on my hips before answering.
“We were engaged.”
My hands still over the lapels, and I lift my eyes to his. He searches my face, the dark eyes gauging my reaction to the words that just sucker-punched me in the gut. He was engaged to someone? There was a woman he wanted to marry? And she’s here tonight? At our table?
“How long ago?” My hands fall from his jacket to hang at my sides.
“We were engaged for about six months, and I broke it off almost a year ago.”
I look at him from under my lashes.
“You broke it off?” He nods. “Why?”
He glances back toward the ballroom, a small smile playing over his full lips, and shrugs.
“I guess we’ve got time for a little story.”
He pushes his hands into his pockets, the jacket dragging back to display his broad chest and taut waist. I will not be distracted by how fuckable he looks, but with a little more time and a tad bit of privacy, I’d dry hump his leg.
“My mother moved to Lumberton, North Carolina, her freshman year in high school,” he says. “Her father’s job relocated them from Boston, and she was in my pop’s homeroom class. She was outspoken, well read, sharp, and hilarious. He fell hard for her, and he never looked back.”
Trevor’s deep laugh and slow smile make my lips curve, too.
“Growing up, I saw my dad make a beeline for my mom every day after work.” He shakes his head, grinning wider. “For a while, he drove a truck to make some extra money. He’d drive through the night to get home to her. We knew he loved us kids, but there was never any doubt that she was number one. He hated being away from her, and I don’t think in forty years of marriage they’ve spent more than two nights apart.”
“That’s beautiful.” I can’t help but contrast that to my parents’ separate vacations and the marriage that’s felt empty as a tomb most of my life.
“I thought so.” Trevor nods, his smile fading. “So last year Fleur had a special assignment in Ghana, and we didn’t see each other for more than a month.”
He drops his eyes to the carpet, twisting his lips and shaking his head.
“I was fine without her. I mean, I missed her, but I didn’t have to fight myself from jumping on a plane to be with her every day.”
“So there was no passion?” I ask, trying to understand exactly what he’s saying.
“The sex was great.” He meets my eyes unabashed, and I want to kick this girl Fleur in the stomach, or maybe lower, in her lady parts, for having Trevor when I haven’t. “It’s more than passion. More than great sex. It wasn’t…urgent. I know what that kind of love looks like, and I realized we didn’t have it. As much perfect sense as Fleur and I made on paper, we didn’t have that, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without it.”
“So you broke it off?”
“I told her what I just told you—that though I cared about her, probably even felt some version of love, it wasn’t what I needed to sustain a forever commitment. And that’s what marriage is to me.”