Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“He does, and there is. He treats me like . . .” I take a breath, looking back at the house. My gaze is pulled to beyond the glass. Wearing a path into the living room floor, Laird’s been on a call since I came out here. I don’t usually see him in that mode, but he’s clearly worked up over something. “It’s never been like this with anyone.”
“I’m a sucker for love,” she says, “but ultimately. I only want the best for you.”
“I know.” Her intentions and heart have always been in the right place. I just wish I had better words to explain, though I still try. “He’s different. I don’t know how to describe it. I just know he came alive like I did.”
I was protective of her when she was dating her husband. I could see something in her had changed; something was different from her other relationships. More settled into her bones? More connected to her soul? She was different, and though I couldn’t explain it then, I could see it. Exhaling, I say, “You’ve done so much for me, helped me in ways that I’ll never be able to repay—”
“You don’t have to. You would have done the same for me.”
I would have. In a heartbeat. “I can’t hike mountains yet. I’m not to that stage of recovery, but I can feel my heart race when I’m with him. I can feel my soul finally come to life again. He feels right. Call me dramatic. As you know, my mother always did. I don’t care. I love him. I love him like I’ve loved him forever. That’s what I mean by different.”
I glance back at him. I’m struck with eyes fixed on mine, a demeanor that doesn’t hold his usual confidence. I’m given his back when he turns away from me and disappears into the shadows of the house.
My stomach tightens, and I feel sick, doubt now flooding my thoughts.
Did I share too much too soon?
Have I been reading him all wrong?
Am I jumping into this too quick?
I turn away from the house, thinking it’s safer for me to stare at the water until Laird and I can talk.
Marina asks, “Why’d you have to go sappy on me?” My sweet friend is a sensitive soul. Maybe being in love does that to someone because I’m feeling it as well or was. Now I’m nervous. She says, “You don’t need to explain anything to anyone else. I can’t say I fell for Cash the minute I met him. In fact, I joke around about our hate-cute, but I fell for him before I realized what the emotion was. It made me realize I never knew what love was before him. He showed me.” She sighs, threading the sound of happiness through the long-distance connection. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you.”
“By the way, you haven’t shared his name. Is it top secret?”
“Laird F—” I stop myself. Not that I want to keep anything from her, but more that I realize after our outing to the store I want to keep him to myself, our relationship quiet and just for us a little longer. She now knows the rest.
“Love that name. Listen, I need to boogie back to hair and makeup before curtain call. I’m so happy for you. You’ve been through hell. It’s time you got a little piece of heaven. Talk soon.”
“Break a leg.” When I hang up, I tuck my phone under my thigh to protect it from the sun. Lying back, I close my eyes thinking about what she said. I can honestly say that I’ve never felt the same about anyone else. I may not be able to describe it, but I feel Laird shifting my body’s chemistry to align with his.
Hesitantly, I look back at the house, spying on Laird. I can’t tell if the phone is to his ear or on the table in front of him. He could have hung up for all I know by how he’s weighted to the couch with his head hanging down. I’m not sure if interrupting him is right or wrong, but in these early stages, I won’t know unless I’m there for him. I push to my feet because the need to be with him is too strong to ignore.
I slide the door open, causing him to look up. A hardness fills the pupils of his typically vibrant blues, making them foreign in familiarity. Standing abruptly, he turns his attention away from me and toward the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”
His phone was abandoned on the couch where he sat, the screen black with no indication he’s still on a call. “Are you okay?” I pick it up and set it on the counter between us.
“Never better,” he replies with his back to me. Opening the fridge, he says, “We should start on dinner.”