Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
I pull hard—because it makes me feel guilty being here—and Jim releases my hand. “I imagine he wouldn’t like it at all. So exactly what are you doing here?”
“Trying to woo you, but it’s apparently not working,” Jim mutters as he scrubs a hand through his hair. More of his face becomes visible as my eyes adjust to the dark, and I have a stab of sympathy over the uncertainty in his expression.
I feel the need to soothe it away. “The candles are pretty.”
Sighing, Jim reaches out lightning fast to grab my hand again. “Okay… let me start over. Hi, Ella. I wanted to come spend some time with you tonight since I leave tomorrow on an extended road trip. I know I’m dropping in unexpectedly, but I feel like this is the only way to get some time with you lately.”
I’m strangely touched by his honesty and the irony of how the roles are reversed. Now, he’s the one struggling to find time with me and not the other way around.
Jim turns me slightly, indicating I should sit on the edge of the chaise. He releases my hand and does the same, so we’re facing each other, our knees almost touching.
I lean forward, cross my arms on my thighs, and ask, “Where did you get this romantic streak?”
Jim shakes his head. “It’s work, to be honest. Thinking of something unique that will make you look twice at me. I told you I’m in this to win it, but it’s not a game. I’m just trying to make you understand, Ella… that I see you.”
Those words touch me more than I ever thought possible. It’s what I’ve wanted to hear him say for years, yet there’s still a part of me that is a little jaundiced.
“I have something for you,” he murmurs and turns to a metal bucket on the floor in front of the table I had not noticed. Beside it, there are two solo cups.
My brows knit in curiosity as Jim pulls from the crunch of ice in the bucket what looks to be a champagne bottle. Holding it up, he declares, “Sparkling grape juice.”
“Sparkling grape juice?” I repeat, wondering why he made that choice.
“Come on, Ella,” he chides as he deftly unwraps the foil top, removes the wire cage, and pops the plastic cork. “Don’t you remember when we were seventeen, drinking this crap because I couldn’t score the real stuff?”
I do remember. He took me on an evening picnic by a moonlit pond. He had packed the sparkling grape juice and some oatmeal cream pies—my favorite—and we watched the stars while we made plans for the rest of our life. We were crazy in love, and there was no holding us back.
Jim pours two glasses—the solo cups are exactly the same as our picnic sixteen years ago—and hands me one. We tap them together, then take a sip.
I grimace. “I remember this tasting better.”
“It’s pretty sweet, huh?” He laughs, setting his cup down and I do the same. He reaches behind the chair, pulling out a box of oatmeal creme pies. “Want one?”
Laughing, I take the box while shaking my head. “I’m stuffed from dinner, but I’m sure I’ll have room later. These are great. Thank you.”
Placing the box of cookies beside me on the chaise, I watch as Jim leans to the side one more time, grabbing something I can’t quite see in the dim light.
“I have one more thing for you… the most important.”
Something about his tone causes my body to lock tight because whatever he’s about to spring on me is something I know has impacted him. I can hear the emotion in his voice, which tells me he put a lot of thought and effort into this, and if I don’t like it, he’s going to be devastated.
Covering whatever it is he holds in his hand, he leans forward and asks, “Remember what else happened that night of stars, sparkling grape juice, and oatmeal cream pies?”
I snort, trying to lighten the mood. “I let you get to third base with me that night.”
Jim barks out a laugh. “True.”
But that’s not what he’s aiming for. “It was the first time you told me you loved me,” I whisper.
“And you gave me the words back,” he replies ever so softly.
“And then… you gave me a promise ring,” I continue with our story. I remember it like it was yesterday. “We had big plans of being together forever, but we were too young to get engaged. So you told me the promise ring was to hold me over, but it was a symbol of your commitment to me that we’d be together always.”
Those last words get stuck in my throat, my eyes a little wet.
“That ring was awful,” Jim says with a chuckle. “It was the best I could afford, but I remember the silver tarnished and turned your finger black.”