Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“Well, if we see any I will slay them for you,” he offers gallantly.
“I didn’t say I wanted them dead. Just not in my house. Or whatever space I’m in. I read somewhere that at any moment in time your house has an average of eight spiders in it.” I shiver at the thought. “Maybe not mine, though. It’s very small, so maybe mine is only like one or two.”
A grin flashes across his face, and I swear my heart reacts to how glorious he is. The thump in my chest isn’t something I can ignore. This man does it for me. The elusive, undefinable “it” we’re all looking for.
“I’ve heard the lodgings in the city can be somewhat small,” he remarks.
“Try excruciatingly tiny. I have to move my sofa in order to bring down my bed to sleep. But it’s in a great place for me workwise. I can get everywhere I need to be quickly, and I’m close to my friends, though I worry someday Ivy and Heath are going to make some super-smart babies and leave for Connecticut. Don’t tell her that. She would find it horrifying, but I suspect one day she might even buy a minivan. Did you know Connecticut is called the Nutmeg State?”
If he’s shocked by my weird turn in conversation, he doesn’t show it, merely looks at me like I’m fascinating. “I did not.”
Like I said, I put my oddness out there for all to see. Strange facts are a part of the package. You learn a lot in the industry I work in. A lot of useless facts, though I think I might do well on Jeopardy. “Yes, it is, and I find it interesting that nutmeg, while everyone thinks it’s just a part of a pumpkin pie spice combo, is actually a toxin if it’s not processed properly. If you consume it in large amounts, it can give you hallucinations, and I think that’s why people from Connecticut always seem so happy. They have too much nutmeg in their systems.”
He sits back and laughs, the sound booming through the small diner. I like the sound. “You are the oddest woman I’ve ever met.”
Not the first time I’ve heard that, but he doesn’t say it like it’s a bad thing. I think he might be a man who can handle some odd. “You obviously don’t get out much.”
“You do know it’s almost one in the morning.” The waitress looks tired of our antics. “And everyone else is gone. We close in twenty minutes. Or in five, if you decide to leave.”
I don’t want to leave.
Luca pulls the cards into his hands. “We haven’t finished the game. I think you’re going to have to show me this tiny space of yours.”
When he offers me his hand, I take it.
Two hours later we’ve gotten ice cream and walked around Rockefeller Center, answering more of those silly questions while sitting on a bench. Usually the late-night crowds would bug me because at this hour they tend to be drunk or obnoxious, but the truth is I don’t see anyone but him.
We’ve talked about what world peace would look like for us—a weird question that he answered beautifully and I mentioned the words free candy—discussed our childhood pets, and whether or not we have siblings. No for both of us.
We have a lot in common. It’s all I can think about as we approach my building. The night seems magical, and I don’t want it to end.
“This is me.” I reach inside my teeny tiny bag that basically only holds my phone, ID, and the key to my apartment.
He glances up at the building, and I wonder what he sees. It’s an old building, bearing the marks of decades and generations. There are certainly prettier buildings. Like the one I’m going to spend a bunch of time around soon because it will play host to a group of wannabe queens, while their king stays at a luxury hotel.
I don’t want to think about that right now. I want Luca to kiss me and come upstairs, and we can forget everything for a couple of hours. I know we’re not starting some grand romance. He can’t stay in New York, and I won’t be moving to England anytime soon, but I’ve so enjoyed the feel of his hand in mine.
I want to not be lonely for a little while.
“This has been the best night I’ve had in a long time,” he says quietly, his fingers disentangling from mine. “Thank you. I so often find myself in stuffy places with stuffy people. It’s my line of work.”
He described it as a combination between publicity and diplomacy. I picked up that he works for his government, and likely in a high-level position.
I’d explained my dream job to him. Not the one I’m about to do. We talked about my upcoming film project, and he agreed that it probably didn’t need aliens. Probably. He really does like science fiction. “No stuffy people around here. Only weirdos.”