Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
He clears his throat, shoving his phone away.
“I know what it’s like to have your heart broken,” I add. “Sometimes it feels good just to get it out, you know? Vent or whatever. Get it off your chest.”
I peek over my sunglasses toward the same young boat captain from the other day. The engine’s loud enough that I doubt he can hear us back here anyway.
We were almost done with breakfast this morning when Redmond mentioned sending Yvette to pick up his prescriptions in town. Burke wasted no time volunteering the two of us under the guise of wanting to show me around town. Redmond didn’t protest. In fact, he seemed to like the idea, telling him to make sure to take me to the candy shop on the square for some sea-salted-caramel taffy.
Burke didn’t bother inviting his brother (thank goodness) or his sister and her family (also thank goodness).
Ever since Nicola caught the tail end of the exchange I had with Dorian the other day, she hasn’t looked at me the same. Then again, her facial expressions are almost always pinched and sour. Still, I can’t help feeling like an ant under the molten-hot, refracted light rays of a magnifying glass whenever she’s in the room.
“It’s fine,” Burke says after what feels like two years of silence. “No point in dredging up the past.”
I don’t believe everything’s “fine,” but I don’t press it.
He’s finally feeling better after that stomach bug, and we’re still getting to know each other.
The boat slows as we approach the marina. As soon as we’re docked, I finger comb my messy hair into a topknot and secure it with a white silk scrunchie that matches my eyelet sundress.
This time, Burke waits to help me off the boat rather than leaving me in the lurch. He’s getting better about remembering we’re supposed to look like we actually love each other, though with all the money he’s spending on this endeavor, I find it odd that he needs a reminder at all.
“We should be back around three,” Burke tells the captain.
“I’ll be here, sir,” the young man replies. “And if you decide you want to return earlier or later, just give me a call.”
Burke slips his hand over mine and leads us down the dock toward the parking lot, though there’s no waiting Escalade or town car.
“You okay walking?” He nods toward the quaint and colorful business district ahead.
“Of course,” I say, despite having donned platform espadrilles. I was about to toss a pair of tennis shoes in my tote bag when I found myself face to face with Dorian by the back door. He was coming inside from his morning jog after breakfast, his muscled shoulders glistening with sweat and his messy dark hair shoved off his forehead with a thin elastic headband.
Our eyes caught in a moment that felt much longer than it was.
Inevitably, I lost my train of thought, forgetting about the task at hand.
A second later, Burke strolled around the corner, placed his hand on the small of my back, and asked if I was ready to go.
We were halfway to the dock when I realized I forgot the sneakers.
“You’re doing great,” Burke says out of the blue when we reach the main drag. The walk from the waterside to here was silent save for a couple of hobby planes circling overhead and a handful of cars cruising past. “I know my family can be intense, but you’re really holding your own.”
“Just . . . doing my job.” I don’t know what else to say.
He sniffs a laugh. “Yeah. I guess.”
We stop at a little pharmacy around the corner, one between a barbershop with one of those red-and-blue spinning poles and a gift shop with a window display chock full of marine-themed trinkets.
“I’m going to check out the cards,” I tell him once we’re inside. “My roommate’s birthday is next week. Should probably send her something since I won’t be able to text her.”
I’m browsing greeting cards when I steal a glimpse of Burke as he’s waiting in line. It isn’t but a handful of seconds before I catch him reaching for his phone again. He thumbs through screen after screen of what I can only assume are photos of Audrina, though I could be wrong. He certainly doesn’t look like he’s checking his email or responding to texts, despite the fact that it’s the first time he’s had cell service all week.
I turn my attention away from my heartbroken employer, select the cheesiest birthday card I can find—one with a pair of old ladies riding mopeds on the front and a god-awful one-liner only Maeve would appreciate—and then I meet Burke in line.
Just as I suspected, he’s in Audrina mode, only now he’s scrolling her latest Instagram posts.
“Does she know you’re still pining away for her?” I startle him.