Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“But I really want you to have the money, so you can get your cake business off the ground.”
“You already gave me everything I need to launch my business,” he said. “And I’m serious. I didn’t earn it, and taking it would feel wrong.” I started to protest, but he gently pressed a finger to my lips. “Your family is expecting us for cocktails and dinner. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
He was right to shift our focus. We really couldn’t begin to tackle any of this today, or even this weekend. There was too much to sort out, too many decisions to be made. And the money thing was going to turn into an argument, I just knew it. I was going to insist that he take it, and he’d probably dig his heels in and keep refusing. But the fact that this hadn’t exactly gone to plan wasn’t his fault.
We both got up, and I kissed his forehead and said, “To be continued.”
Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror over the dresser, which made me frown and go in search of a comb. I hadn’t checked my appearance before I went to meet with my grandfather, and I was a mess. My family was probably used to it, but I needed to step up my game. Before long, I was going to be running a restaurant again. My staff would be looking to me for leadership. It would be important to project an air of confidence and competence.
And there was that nauseous feeling again….
Embry and I finished getting ready and left our room hand-in-hand. On our way to the stairs, he said, “It’s creepy that Fallon recorded our conversation.”
“It was. I think he knew that, too. That might have been the real reason he didn’t take the recording to our grandfather. It would have made him look really bad.”
“We’ll have to spend the rest of the weekend whispering or passing notes, and no more sex until we get home.” Embry glanced at my profile. “I’m glad his room was empty at the time, but do you think anyone else heard us doing it?”
“I doubt it, since we’re on a corner and only Fallon’s room shares a wall. And we can still have sex,” I said, as I grinned at him. “We just have to be quiet.”
We started down the stairs, and a few seconds later, Embry slipped and started to fall. I tightened my grip on his hand and pulled him back up, and he grabbed on to me and swore under his breath. A moment later, he murmured, “Sorry,” and started down the stairs again, this time clutching the handrail.
Somehow, that was the start of several accidents that evening. When he tried to take a glass of champagne, he ended up knocking over the rest of the glasses on the tray. At dinner, he knocked over his water glass. Then he bumped into a server when he quickly pushed his chair back to escape the spill, causing her to drop the salads she was carrying.
After each incident, Embry apologized profusely and looked absolutely mortified. It broke my heart to watch him shrink into himself as his confidence slipped away. The only time I’d seen him like that was the first time he came to the house and ended up breaking a bunch of wine glasses. Since then there’d been little accidents here and there, but they hadn’t rattled him the way these did.
He ended up picking at his dinner and only eating a bite or two. Then, as soon as the meal was over, he whispered, “I’m going back to our room, before I cause any more damage.”
I wanted to ask him to stay, but the look in his eyes told me he really needed to get out of there. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”
“No, stay here. I’d feel terrible if I made you miss out on your grandfather’s birthday celebration.”
“It’s fine. We’ll be celebrating all weekend.”
When he insisted, “I want you to stay,” I decided not to argue. He obviously needed some time to himself.
I kissed him and promised to bring him a piece of birthday cake, and he whispered, “Thank you.” Then he hurried from the dining room with his head down and his arms wrapped around himself. It was so hard not to run after him and try to make him feel better.
He’d been called clumsy all his life, and I thought he’d started to reject that label. But these little accidents clearly affected his self-esteem, and they built on each other. The more that went wrong, the more rattled he became, which in turn lead to another accident. It was basically a self-fulfilling prophecy.
I figured it was a short-term thing, and that he’d be able to bounce back once we got home. What I didn’t know at the time was that this was the start of a downward spiral—one that was going to have huge consequences.