Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
“No, but can you honestly tell me it’s safe here for William?” His voice faded at their son’s name.
“I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered. She hugged herself tighter, for fear that if she let go even the slightest bit, she would shatter to pieces at his feet. He was right, it wasn’t safe. She’d come to the same conclusion yesterday in that air-raid shelter, but the thought of leaving Jameson was a knife in her soul.
He pulled her against him, tucking her in tight into his side as he held their son in his other arm. “I don’t want you to go,” he admitted in a guttural rush. “But if I can save you, I will. Exeter, Bath, Norwich, York, the list goes on. Over a thousand civilians have died in the last week alone.”
“I know.” Her hands fisted in the material of his uniform, as if she could stay if she held on just a little tighter, but this wasn’t about them anymore. It was about their son, the life they’d created together. Thousands of British mothers had trusted their children to strangers to keep them from harm’s way, and here, she had the chance to deliver her son from harm herself. “You want us to take the ship to America?” she asked slowly, tasting the bittersweet words on her tongue.
“Not exactly…”
She looked up at Jameson and arched an eyebrow.
“I saw my uncle today.”
Her eyes flew wide. “I’m sorry?”
“Uncle Vernon. He’s here flying with ATC. He’ll be back in a little less than a month.”
Scarlett swallowed. “At which time he’ll come to dinner so I can meet him?” she guessed hopefully, knowing that wasn’t what he meant.
Jameson shook his head. “At which time he can get you out.”
How? How could he be sure she’d get a visa below the quota? How could he be sure he’d get them out? How? The questions hit her at such speed that they all skimmed right over her, because everything in her soul, in the center of her being, had focused on the other piece in this puzzle. “Less than a month?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Less than a month.” The agony in Jameson’s eyes was something she’d never forget, but he nodded once. “If you agree.”
It was her choice, but there wasn’t one. Not really.
“Okay,” she agreed, tears pricking her eyes. “But only because of William.” She would risk her life to stay with Jameson, but she couldn’t risk her son’s if there was any other option.
Jameson forced a smile, then pressed a hard kiss against her forehead. “For William.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Georgia
Dear Jameson,
I miss you. I love you. I cannot bear to be away from you anymore. I know I’ll reach you before this letter, but I’m coming, my love. I cannot wait to feel your arms around me again…
I stared in open-mouthed shock as Mom slowly pocketed her cell phone, her cheeks turning pink.
“I will ask you again: what the hell are you doing?” Noah repeated as he marched toward the desk.
“She’s scanning the manuscript,” I whispered, gripping the back of a chair to remain upright.
“Holy shit.” Noah reached across the desk, yanking the stack of papers out of Mom’s reach with one hand and taking the box with the other. He quickly thumbed through the stack, not sparing a glance in Mom’s direction. “She got the first third of it,” he said to me, putting the manuscript back together and securing the lid.
“Why would you do that?” I asked, my voice breaking like a child’s.
“I just wanted to read it. Gran never let me, and we weren’t on the best terms the last time I was here.” Mom swallowed and slid her phone into the back pocket of her jeans.
I tilted my head, trying to make sense of it. “We were on great terms until you walked out after you got what you came for.” I shook my head. “I would have let you read it if you’d wanted to. You didn’t have to sneak around. Didn’t have to—” My face fell, and I felt the blood drain straight out of it. “You weren’t scanning it for you.”
“He has every right to read it, Georgia.” She lifted her chin. “You know that contract states that he has the first right of refusal, and you’ve withheld it from him. You should have heard him on the phone, heartbroken that you were using business to get back at him.”
Damian. Mom was scanning the manuscript for Damian. My stomach knotted, dropping to the floor.
“She’s not selling the rights!” Noah’s voice rose, tension ebbing from every line of his torso. “It’s hard to have first right of refusal on a deal that doesn’t exist.”
“You’re not selling the movie rights?” Mom stared at me in disbelief.
“No, Mom.” I shook my head. “He played you.” Damian had always been a smooth operator, but I’d never seen someone get one over on Mom.