Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
I smiled curiously and slid closer, and I turned my back to him.
“My siblings and I all wanted to pursue different interests over the years that didn’t please our parents.” He turned on the water and waited till it was hot before he began washing my hair. I tipped my head back and closed my eyes. “That sort of thing causes rifts.”
Yeah, I could see that.
“I’m not saying I wasn’t fortunate,” he added. “I was, and I am. Very much so. I’m only saying it was never what made me happy.”
I shivered at the feel of his fingers in my hair—and the warmth of his voice.
When he switched off the water again, I peered up at him, so he was totally upside down. “I make you happy?”
He smiled. “Incredibly. You’ve breathed life into my existence, Parker. You can’t put a price tag on that. You walk into a room, and the whole place lights up.”
Goodness, he had a way with words.
“Close your eyes.”
I closed my eyes.
He started working shampoo into my hair, and I groaned at how good it felt.
“When I was in college, I grew closer to my uncle,” he went on. “I trusted him, and he listened when I complained about my first-world problems. I was furious with my father, who wouldn’t let me minor in ecology.”
Whoa. I cracked one eye open. “Like, plants and stuff?”
He chuckled. “That’s the start of it, I suppose. Partly. But I was drawn to finding solutions in developing countries. I spent a summer in Botswana before my senior year in high school—looked great on my college application, my parents said. We built a school there, and all I saw was this barren land, and I came home with the niggling worry that life couldn’t flourish where nothing grew.”
Fuck, now I felt bad. There was so much to learn about Wyatt, and I’d barely scratched the surface. I’d asked the most basic stuff, like siblings, how many celebrity chefs he knew, what his favorite foods and music were. We talked so much, and a simple two-second question could easily turn into a two-hour conversation. And I loved that. I loved that he was easy to talk to—and he listened as well. He didn’t mind when I rambled.
We had time, though. Right? We had to. I wanted to know everything.
“I got even angrier when I didn’t get the opportunity to go back to Botswana,” he said. “But I was partly to blame for that. I obeyed my parents for too long. Until Uncle Clarke told me it was okay to piss off my folks sometimes. And then I chose his path.”
“You mean at the company?”
“More like his philosophy in life,” he answered. “Have you met Clarke?”
I squinted. “Not really. I’ve seen him from afar at a work thing. He’s boisterous.”
“That, he is.” He grinned faintly and dragged his fingers along my scalp. Homina, homina, that felt so friggin’ amazing. “He noticed once that I tended to feel bad about wealth—the topic made me uncomfortable. So he took me aside one day and told me to buck up. Money’s great. Making money is wonderful. The trick, he said, was to spend it wisely. Keep making it—just take care of those under you. Do something good.”
I shivered when he covered my neck, rubbing my flesh unhurriedly and scratching his nails up my scalp.
“Right after college, I applied for a job with him,” he said. “I wanted to work my way up, and he waved that off. He had just the thing for me, he said. Two things, actually. He wanted my production brain—I’m good at strategizing big projects and leading rather large departments.”
“And the other?” I asked.
“He knew I needed to feel good about what I did,” he sighed. “As you know, we have a department that works with charity.”
I nodded. “Yessir. Did he put you in charge of that?”
“No, but he told me to make sure the money was spent wisely.” He winked. “He said he didn’t want our money to be lost in the system. He showed me the average cut of a dollar that goes straight to relief and aid, and it pissed me off. We’re talking a few cents. The rest gets shuffled around and never makes it to where it’s truly needed.”
I scrunched my nose.
“When I finally got out of my marriage, I let my job become everything,” he admitted. “I poured all my time and energy into digging out the right nonprofits, the best people on the ground, the spokespeople I wanted to keep close, the organizations that sent volunteers instead of outsourcing the task and paying them instead.”
I smiled to myself and closed my eyes once more as he showered off the suds from my hair.
“I love my job, Parker,” he murmured. “It fills me with a sense of purpose and keeps me afloat. But on a personal level, I’ve been drowning for years. I’ve distanced myself from everything and everyone. I became moody and cynical.”