Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
I've cried more in the last few days than I have in the last ten years. Consequently, I've also had Colin hug me more than at any other point in my life. It's the most pleasant kind of torture, to be held by the man who has long been the object of my affection. The comfort he's offered me in the days since his grandparents passed has been invaluable. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that in addition to the safety and security I find in his arms, I'm also having one of my lifelong dreams fulfilled.
My four-inch heels give me enough height that I'm only three inches shorter than his six-foot-two-inch frame. This allows me to tuck my head under his chin as I take a few measured breaths to get myself back together before I finally feel strong enough to stand up straight. His arms loosen, but he doesn't let me go. When I look up, I find him looking down at me. There's an expression on his face that makes me feel weak in the knees. I nervously run my tongue along my lower lip only to forget how to breathe when his eyes drop to my mouth and his nostrils flare. Holy crap—is Colin attracted to me?
“Leni,” he says huskily. “I wanted to wait—”
The sound of a throat clearing interrupts the moment. Colin’s arms drop as he steps away from me to turn toward the kitchen door. Leaning to the left, I see one of the crew from the party rental place that provided the outdoor seating for the luncheon.
"We've got the tent, tables, and chairs loaded into the truck, Mr. Findlay. I just need you to initial here, and we'll be out of your way."
“Right, sure,” Colin coughs.
His tone is slightly harried, and I can see the tension in his frame as he walks to the door and accepts the tablet the man is holding out to him. He initials quickly with his finger before he looks back over his shoulder at me with an expression I can't possibly decipher.
“I’m going to walk him to the door and then head upstairs to shower, okay?”
He waits for me to nod before he turns and walks away. Watching him retreat, I can’t help thinking about him in the shower—and the fact that we’re now alone in the house. For the last four nights, his parents were here as well, but they left directly after the luncheon today since his mom—Mariana—has her four-week post-op checkup tomorrow from her recent knee replacement.
This means that for the first time in my life I’m sharing space with Colin and no one else is around. My room—the one Nanny and Pop decreed was mine within months of my meeting them— is two doors down from Colin’s, the large hall bath the only thing separating our rooms.
After wiping down the kitchen counters and folding the kitchen towel over the handle of the dishwasher, I head upstairs. As I walk past the exterior wall of the bath that Colin and I share, I hear the water running through the pipes. The sound makes me think of him in there, naked, and I feel hot and flushed. I quicken my steps and fling the door to my room open, hurrying inside before closing the door softly behind me. I roll my eyes at myself as I meet my reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. You'd think I just went through some Mission: Impossible obstacle course to get up here.
Laughing at my idiocy, I kick off my heels, pull the pins out of my updo and toss them onto my dresser before heading straight for my bed and dropping backward onto it, arms out wide. Across the room, the door to the Jack and Jill bath Colin and I share is firmly closed. In all the years I've stayed here, we've never had a bathroom run-in, not that I haven't fantasized about it. When we're in the house at the same time we know to knock twice on the door before opening it, and the system has always worked.
Rolling my head from side to side on the bed, I inhale the clothesline-fresh scent of my crisp white bedding. For a second or two it's like nothing has changed and Nanny just had them hanging out in the yard, but then the reality hits all over again. Nanny and Pop are really gone now. The thought of them immediately causes a lump in my throat. Sitting up, I scoot myself back on my bed and settle into a comfy spot so that I can rest my head on a pillow and look around at the one place I've ever felt utterly secure in. Here, I've always known I was loved. Here, I've had no question about my importance.