Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
With neither of us actually knowing much of the way around, it’s decided in a moment that we’ll go together.
No way am I creeping around this place alone, and I know Rocco only left me long enough to bring me my glasses.
Which he slips into my hands.
I slide them on my face, instantly more confident because I can actually see where I’m going.
I didn’t tell him beforehand, out of worrying he’ll think there’s something wrong with me. But I really can’t see anything well enough unless I have my glasses on.
“Better?’ he asks me, holding me back while he studies me.
Then he pecks my nose.
“I’d forgotten how cute you look with those on,” he remarks, moving past me, but keeping hold of my hand as I turn a shade redder.
I grip a couple of his huge fingers, and we start to explore the old place that looks like it’s getting the modern touch.
But Rocco doesn’t forget our mission.
“Finding a bathroom, not just having a look around,” he smiles once we find ourselves standing in the middle of a giant, empty hall-type room I assume used to be a ballroom or something.
I’m wondering what we’d each do with a huge place like this ourselves?
“I think it’s this way,” I end up declaring.
Using my female intuition, I discover a bathroom in moments while Rocco hovers near the door I’m about to close.
“I’ll only be a minute,” I tell him, feeling my flattered self getting embarrassed if I’m gonna have to hold my pee every time I need to go so Mr. Wonderful here can give me a private escort.
I love Rocco, but I can go to the damned bathroom by myself….
There. I said it.
I love him. No other way to say it.
Because in my heart of hearts, it’s the only way to describe how I feel right now.
Now and forever, no matter what happens next.
Saying it to myself as I wash my hands, I smile. But feel uncertainty creeping in as well.
It’s all well and good for me to have a crush on him, even more than that.
And I know he’s big on the family angle.
But the ‘L’ word?
I think it’ll be a while before we can get to that.
Men like Rocco use few words as it is, and I’m not gonna hold my breath waiting to hear those three little words from him.
But I can wait.
Having him wait for me, knowing he actually cares about me?
That’s worth more than words at this stage, and I still have to pinch myself, wondering what the hell it is an older guy like him sees in a younger girl like me anyway.
“Better?” Rocco asks, grinning like he’s had a brainwave while I’ve been gone.
He takes my hand again and walks me to a newly restored section of the balcony at the top of some stairs, opening out onto a deck through newly finished French Windows.
“Like it?” he asks me, shifting his gaze to the view of the valley.
The muddy hill and worksite we’re on seem to disappear as the sun shines out from behind the clouds, lighting up everything green in the world.
I feel like it’s all so perfect because I’m with him.
“It’s beautiful…,” I murmur.
“It sure is,” he agrees. “I mean, you sure are,” he corrects himself.
And I turn to see he’s been watching me the whole time. Hooking his huge hand around my waist, he pulls me closer.
Kissing me hard, he asks me if I’d prefer a modern or an older-style house.
The question catches me off guard, but only because of the level of intensity Rocco uses when asking.
But I play along, and if I’m honest, I have to admit I am in love with the old-style atmosphere.
But, nothing beats a brand new, working modern bathroom like the one I just experienced.
So I confess my choice.
“A little of both,” I tell Rocco thoughtfully. “I love the older stairs, the woodwork…but I love the modern tiles and bath even more.”
I love you, dammit! Why can’t I just tell you?
Rocco’s eyes shine with pleasure as he hears my choices.
Getting to know exactly what I like seems to please him more than anything. It makes me wonder if he’s ever thought only of himself.
He’s not the typical, selfish type that I’d think about whenever I think of a mobster.
But then again, not a part of him matches any of that.
I just can’t see it in him.
“Should we even be staying here, let alone daydreaming about a place like this?” I ask, giving into my old fears and worries.
Rocco doesn’t look hurt, though. In fact, he agrees.
“You’re right, but I just wondered what sort of place you’d like. Some people like small places….”
I assume he’s talking about places like my old apartment.
The place I suddenly realize I can never go back to, even if I wanted to.