Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“You’d have more fun with other people, Kels. I’m not really up for drinking that much.”
Her frown makes me feel so guilty. “But you’re my best friend! I want you to meet Mason! Please, Laine! Jeez, do you want me to fucking beg or something? I said I’m sorry about last time, what else do you want?” Class is about to start, but she folds her arms and makes no move to leave. “Please, Laine! Say you’ll come!”
I’m so cornered. Cornered and guilty.
“I’ll talk to Nick…”
“You need his permission now?!”
“No,” I say. And I don’t. I’m sure I don’t. Even though I’m also sure I do.
“So you’ll come, then?”
I’m trapped. Her eyes pleading and her shoulders so rigid. I’m trapped into going out for her birthday, because she’s been my friend for as long as I can remember.
“Alright,” I say. “I’ll come. But only for a few, okay? Just for a few!”
She grins, triumphant, then slings her arm around my shoulder as we head for class.
All I feel is dread.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nick
I’m more tired than I can remember. Amusing though it is, I should be far too sensible to indulge in a crazy weekend of fucking on such little sleep. Still, I feel sated. Thoroughly sated.
I feel blessed. Calm.
Loved.
A tap on my door, and my bright-eyed assistant steps in. She looks considerably fresher than I feel.
“Morning, Penny,” I offer, and my tiredness fades into the background as I notice the box in her hands.
“Morning, Mr Lynch.” Her smile is nervous. “I picked out that gift you wanted. Charged it to your expenses account on the weekend. I hope that’s okay,” she dithers in front of my desk, so unsure. “It was expensive…”
I wave her concerns aside. “That’s great, Penny. Thank you.”
She sighs, pretends to wipe her brow. And then she hands it over.
The box is black leather with fine embossed lettering. It opens so smoothly in my hands.
Penny stares at me as I stare at the gift she’s chosen. It’s beautiful. A perfect heart, so tasteful in its simplicity, twinkling with a delicate pink stone as an accent.
“It’s platinum,” she says. “And that’s a real diamond…”
“An excellent choice.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
I close the box, and meet her smile. “Thank you, Penny.”
She hovers, and I stay quiet as she plucks up whatever courage she’s summoning. “Will she like it?”
“I hope so,” I say.
“She’s a lucky girl.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate such a beautiful gift.” I wait for it, interested to see how bold she is with her questioning.
She keeps her eyes on the box. “Will she wear it to the Christmas party?”
The Christmas party.
I’ve barely given it a thought. It’s been merely a duty up until now. My attendance a necessary annoyance as senior partner of the practice.
I imagine Laine on my arm this year, and the prospect is considerably more appealing.
“I would think so, Penny.”
Her eyes are so warm. “That’s great. What’s her name?”
“Laine,” I say.
“Laine,” she repeats. “I look forward to meeting her.”
“I’m sure she’ll enjoy meeting you, too.”
She makes to leave, but I call her back. “One more thing, Penny, if you will.”
“Of course.”
I open the gallery app on my phone and ping a copy of the butterfly picture to her inbox as she waits. “I’ve emailed you an image. I’d like it printed, please, a frame, too. I know you’ll find something just perfect.”
“I’ll do my best, Mr Lynch.”
I’m sure she will.
My phone tells me it’s almost lunchtime as I drop it back onto my desk.
I’ve just time to finish up my current report before it’s time to call Laine.
Laine
Kelly Anne doesn’t bother speaking as we sit in the canteen. She knows the routine by now, knows he’ll be calling me any minute.
I dig in my bag for my phone, just like always. I like to be prepared for when his call comes in.
Only my phone isn’t in my bag this morning.
I root around, as though searching all the harder will make it materialise out of thin air.
Kelly Anne sighs as she watches. “Left your fancy phone at home, did you? Daddy Nick’s gonna be pissed you’re not at his beck and call.”
She has no idea.
I feel like such an ass for sleeping in and rushing so fast to make it up to him. I can imagine exactly where my phone is, still plugged in at the side of the bed, probably still chirping out the alarm that I snoozed ten times this morning. Shit.
I feel myself pale, my mouth dry as paper.
“Chill, Laine, it’s just a phone. No big deal.”
But it is a big deal. He always calls at one on the dot. He likes to get hold of me, to check I’m okay.
“He always calls…” I begin, like she has a hope of hell of understanding.
“So?”
“So, he always calls. It’s important.”
She tuts at me. “So important. I’m sure he can wait a few hours for a status update on how yummy your sandwich was.”