Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 103170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
I finish a glass, then I slip out of the room quietly, move into the lift.
But right before the doors close, Sienna slips inside.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Sienna
"Hey." I smooth my dress, but it does nothing to soothe me. I'm nervous. Way too nervous.
"Are you leaving?"
"No. I wanted to walk you out. If that's okay."
He nods.
"And, uh… I know it's after the wedding, but—"
"You're not leaving yet."
"If I was?"
His lips curl into a half-smile. "You should stay for the last dance."
"If I revised my previous statement… and was okay with hearing a response now. I mean, if you're ready to give one."
"Are you?"
Am I? What if he says no, I'm sorry, I meant never? Can I really go back to the wedding and smile for my sister?
Or will I burst into tears and confess everything and totally ruin the night?
"Yes." The words spill from my lips. "If you have something to say, I can hear it now. I can hear it later too. If that's what you want. I… I just wanted to walk you out."
His eyes fix on me.
"And tell you… I can wait."
"You can wait?"
"For you. If you need time to figure out what you want. Or if you love me. Or if you're capable of loving me. I can wait."
"You're eighteen. You should be having fun."
"I'll have fun."
His brows furrow.
"I'm supposed to avoid boys during the soccer season anyway. That's our team captain's edict."
"And you've really stuck to it so far."
"I know. So I, uh, I have some catching up to do on that."
He half-smiles.
"And I have classes and friends and new friends to make. So I… it would definitely work for me to wait."
"Really?"
I nod. "I'm capable. Maybe I won't patiently, but patience is overrated."
He smiles.
"And I… please, Cam. If you don't want me, okay. If you'll feel too much pressure having me on the hook, okay. But don't say no because you think it's what's best for me. This is what I want. I want to wait. Because I want you. And I love you. And I can figure the rest out."
"You might be waiting a long time."
My chest warms. "I can do that."
"Months?"
I nod.
"Years?"
"I don't know, Cam. I think so. I can't promise I'll feel the same way in two years, but, right now, I know I love you, and I want to wait if that's what you need. Anything could happen, but right now—"
He cuts me off with his lips.
I mumble against his mouth.
He kisses me like he's claiming me.
This time, he is.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Sienna
Waiting is torture.
The first week is the hardest.
Cam is still in New York. He's still honoring his promise to Ty to watch me until my sister returns from the honeymoon.
Every night, after practice, I show him a new sight in the city. Or take him to a fancy restaurant way out of my price range.
After he teases me about my love of dessert, and eats half my chocolate cake, he walks me home.
When he kisses me goodbye, every molecule in my body begs for him.
But we're not having sex. Not until he figures this out.
Only kissing.
And even that—
Only while he's here.
When the happy couple returns, I take Cam to the airport (well, ride in his limo with him) and I kiss him goodbye at the terminal. It's like something out of a movie. Like he's going to war.
In a way, he is.
He flies back to London and I go to my life and everything gets so much harder and so much easier with him on the other side of the Atlantic.
I can't give into my temptation to mount him, but I miss his touch and his laugh and his smile and even the smell of his soap.
We still talk, but it's more like before. Not platonic, but not sexual either.
We text about run times and TV (we're finally watching The Good Wife together, and he's totally wrong. It's not too high brow for me. I mean, it's no Ninety Day Fiancée, but it moves fast and it's full of hot guys in suits).
We text about lunch and coffee and school and soccer and work.
I don't ask if he's ready. I don't ask if he fucks himself thinking of me. I don't even send him pictures of me in lingerie.
Instead, I send evidence I'm living my life. Post practice selfies, photos at parties, delicious French toast brunches with Indie, Ty overdressed at a soccer game or a coffee shop or a fast-food restaurant.
The man walks into Dunkin' Donuts like he's the regional manager.
And even a few nights with Eve. We're not best friends or anything, but we both like live music and Indian food and trading college stories.
I even learn to appreciate her deep thinking and her love of dissecting literature. It's not what I do, but it's cool she's able to find so much in a book or a song or a movie.