Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
“Then come to dinner. Or just...come upstairs. I can have dinner brought to us.”
She hesitates one more time, and I offer her my arm.
“It’s not far,” I tell her, keeping my voice light. “Only an elevator ride away.” At this moment I remember the first time I laid eyes on her. I can’t lose her. I did once before, and I don’t know what will come of me now that I know every little bit about her that I do. “I don’t want to lose you,” I confess to her, and her eyes meet mine with surprise and maybe hope.
“Okay,” she says softly, and takes my arm.
Thank fuck. I at least have a chance.
Maddie
I have a slight headache from crying most of the night, and I don’t feel like I look my best, but Graham doesn’t say a word about it as he whisks me upstairs to the penthouse.
The first thing he does is put me on the couch in the living room and hand me a bottle of water. I take sips from it while he moves around the apartment.
He’s tense and I feel awful for all of this. I don’t know how it got to this point. I was living a fairy tale that wasn’t meant for me. I’m so sorry I dragged him into this.
“Are you drawing a bath?” That’s definitely the sound of running water.
Graham doesn’t answer. He returns a few minutes later with a stack of clothes in hand. A robe—new and silky—along with a comfortable outfit that could easily be pajamas or the classier version of loungewear.
“You had these laying around?” I ask as he hands me the folded bundle.
“Maybe,” he says. “Why don’t you get changed? If we’re not going out, then you’re allowed to be comfortable.”
“Get changed or have a bath?”
“Either. Both. Whatever will get you to talk to me.”
When we get to the main bathroom, the tub is filled, a candle flickers on the edge, and there’s a small glass of wine balanced on a tray that stretches over the water.
It’s far too romantic for what I feel like I deserve. I’ve messed this up. Just like I messed everything else up.
“Are those rose petals?” I can’t help a soft smile of disbelief at the crimson petals floating on the surface. “Did you put rose petals in the bathwater?”
“I told you I’d make it up to you.”
Graham bustles toward the door. “The remote on the tray connects to the sound system. It’ll play whatever you want, just scroll through the screen for the options.”
He’s drawn a bath for me.
“If you don’t want to talk, we can listen to music.”
I put the clothes on the towel shelf and look down at the steaming hot water. It looks like heaven although I may fall asleep in it, I’m so damn tired.
“Where did you get rose petals?” I whisper, and then decide to take him up on it.
The wine’s sweet and chilled, the water’s hot and soothing, and the music brings it all together. I expect him to follow me in, but when I sink fully in, he isn’t there.
The music is quiet enough that I can hear him moving around in the penthouse. A door opens and shuts. Low voices talk to one another. I watch the rose petals float across the surface of the tub. I feel awful for last night.
It’s all on the tip of my tongue. I didn’t really want him to go. I just didn’t know what else to say. I just wanted it all to stop.
With both hands, I splash the water on my face and attempt to just calm down. Suzette’s advice echoes in my head: calm down. Tell him when you’re calm.
She said it will be okay, but I don’t see how any of this is going to be okay.
I sip the wine until it’s gone and let the heat of the water take some of the ache out of my muscles. Whew. A girl really shouldn’t cry that hard if she doesn’t want to feel like crap all day.
* * *
When I’ve soaked up all the relaxation I can, he still isn’t in the tub.
I get out and dry off with one of Graham’s ridiculously fluffy towels. His initials are monogrammed on them in dark blue, like his stationery, and that makes me feel lighter for some reason. I think I just like the sight of his initials.
There’s an arrangement of glass dispensers on the counter with lotion that has the light scent of aloe, and I spend some time rubbing it into my skin, waiting for him, before I change into the clothes he’s brought.
He must have had them here. But I don’t think he bought them today.
Did he have them here for me all along?
Did he want to ask me to stay and make it clear that he has everything I need?