Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
But now I do.
Now I can picture a life with the man seated next to me—the man holding my hand as he drives—the man who has always looked out for me and as far as I’m concerned, always will.
I can see us together for the long haul, and I know now that the reason I was afraid before had nothing to do with him but everything to do with me and the things I’d gone through.
I wasn’t ready to hear words affirming any kind of long-term commitment from Jameson. Not yet. So when he told me he was fine with me getting pregnant, I panicked. All I could think about was my father leaving me, Jameson leaving me, and the mother I once had turning into a different person and basically leaving me.
But after what Jameson did for my mom, he made it clear that he’s not here to make empty promises. He’s here to stay, to keep me, and to be by my side. I have no idea if I’m even close to ready for the places he wants to take me in life, but I do know that if he’s there by my side, I’ll be okay.
Med school…and pregnancy? How in the world will I manage that?
It sounds absolutely impossible, and I know that’s what everyone would tell me, but for some reason, when I think of it now, the thought doesn’t scare me.
Maybe that’s because when I look at him, every bit of tightness seems to lift from my shoulders. It’s as though I’ve been pumped full of helium. I feel as though I could carry the world on my back when I look at Jameson. He’s just a complete stress reliever.
The drive to Burlington doesn’t take too long, and even if it did, I wouldn’t mind. It’s honestly really relaxing to sit beside Jameson and watch the sun go down over the trees, then watch the skyline go by as we drive. It feels just like old times when we would go on small road trips together just to get away.
Jameson would see I was getting bogged down in dealing with my mom, in not having enough money to keep up the house and buy groceries, so he would invite me over for dinner at his place, then take me out for a ride on his motorcycle somewhere out in the woods. Somehow he knew it would just help get my mind off of things, and it was in those days that I started to develop my first feelings for him.
The restaurant Jameson has picked out for us has valet parking, and I suddenly feel underdressed, despite having on a very nice black dress with a matching pair of heels. I can tell as we get out and walk to the front door that this will definitely be the nicest place I’ve ever been to, but as I look up at Jameson, he is looking right back at me to reassure me that everything will be fine.
“Don’t worry.” He smiles. “You’ll be the hottest looking girl in there.”
“Stop.” I immediately blush. “You think that’s helping?”
“It’s the truth,” he says, stepping aside and placing his hand on my lower back to escort me in ahead of him.
He’s looking exceptionally dashing in a casual blue suit with a white shirt underneath it, unbuttoned with no tie, and a pair of tan suede loafers. It’s like he stepped out of a men’s magazine or something. I’m really not used to seeing him like this. It’s a total contrast to how I was used to seeing him back when we were young: covered in grease, worn out jeans, ripped T-shirts and his hair all matted down and in his face.
“Welcome to Sophia Sun’s,” a man in a black suit says with a smile, greeting us. “Two for dinner?”
“That’s right.” Jameson smiles back.
“Right this way, sir.”
We follow the man inside through the restaurant, which is almost completely full, over to a table which is nicely out of the way while not being stuffed into the corner. The décor is nice: dimly lit with candles but not dark, a mix of off-whites and dark woods that feel very much like Vermont, and an interesting pattern on the ceiling done in a deep orange. I already know I don’t belong here, but Jameson is doing a great job making me feel like I do.
“This is a far cry from Burger King,” I laugh as the waiter pours us water from a crystal-clear jug filled with ice.
“That’s the idea.” He grins back as menus are placed before us. I feel like royalty as I look around. Who are all these people with all this money? Where do they come from? What do they do?
I would love to know their stories. Are they old money, from rich families with generational wealth? Are they lawyers? Are they doctors? If I work hard enough could I end up here one day, paying for a meal like this on my own? All I know is that when I look at all the items to order, I can only make sense of about two of them, and the rest make absolutely no sense to me.