Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I turned on the shower but didn’t step inside. Instead, I put my leg up on the tub’s edge and pushed my fingers inside. I closed my eyes against the soreness there. What would it feel like after an entire night with him? Would that—could that—ever happen? Pulling out my fingers, I opened the door and slowly stepped into the hot stream of water. I cried again as I washed every part of the day off my body.
I stayed in the shower for over a half hour, then slowly turned off the railhead, then the body jets. Grabbing one of the white fluffy towels from the warmer, I wrapped it tightly around my body and stepped out.
I had to finish. I had to get dressed. I was having dinner with Brant that night, assuming he showed up.
Lies. There was a mountain of them between us, the linen tablecloth too pure and small to hold them all. They tumbled down the sides, spilled around and crowded the twin lobsters before us, the melted butter catching some of them in its flame.
I had many; he had few. I was fully aware of my deceit, and I could only guess at his. We'd talked for hours in this relationship, but had said little that wasn't, in some part, a lie.
"I heard that you're honoring your parents at the Xavier Event,” I said.
He nodded as he cut a piece of asparagus. "I've decided to name the new building in their honor." The building was a hundred-million-dollar investment, one that would have their names on the top. A kind gesture, but a frequent one. Three of them on BSX's campus already bore my name, the challenge of a new employee finding his way to the right one becoming a hazing practice among veterans. Other boyfriends gave roses; Brant gave buildings. Literally gave them. My name was on the property deeds, his companies now paying me handsome rent each month.
I took a sip of wine and savored the taste for a moment before swallowing. It was a 1961 La Mission Haut-Brion, and it was perfection. "Are you giving the building to their foundation?"
He nodded and cut a piece of steak. "Tomorrow, can you get with Jillian? Look over the foundation’s endowments this year and see if you agree with where they are going."
It was a process that I would normally embrace, but I winced at the thought of the hours it would require with Jillian. I forced a smile. "Sure. I can prepare you a summary of the organizations and the impact—"
He waved off the offer. "It's fine, as long as you're happy with them. What'd you do today?"
An abrupt change of conversation was typical of Brant, yet I felt thrown onto the stand. "Ran errands. Took a nap." Liars elaborate. My tongue was proving the fact true and itching to get creative. I set my jaw.
Brant reached over and gently touched the top of my arm, a habitual gesture, one I loved. A mini-connection in our love life. "Sounds nice."
"Maybe you can take off tomorrow,” I suggested. “Spend the day in bed with me."
He shook his head. "Not a chance. I'm close to breaking the battery capabilities of Onyx down to a fifth of current levels. Which could mean—"
"That you're brilliant," I interrupted with a smile.
He shrugged. "That I'm lucky."
I shot him a wry look, and reached across the table, spearing a piece of his meat and bringing it to his lips. "Promise me after you crack the battery issue that you'll celebrate with me. Give me two days, wherever I want to take you."
"I promise." He took the food offering and chewed, settling back in his chair as the tuxedoed waiter approached.
Two weeks later, he completed the build of a battery slimmer than the closest competitor by half, one that would run for nine days without charging. I planned a vacation to Colorado. Booked a house. Scheduled the jet. But we didn't go. And I understood.
Chapter 25
I tucked Lee’s business card into the frame of my bathroom mirror. I eyed it while applying mascara and lipstick. I memorized it as I brushed my teeth and flossed.
When I closed my eyes at night, I thought of him. When my hand stole underneath the covers and pressed hard against the ache between my legs, I thought of him. I watched the sunrise over my lawn as I sipped coffee and considered hiring him to cut it. Then I thought of all of the ways this would crash to the ground.
I knew that I shouldn't call him, but I couldn’t stay away.
I lasted a week, then I called him. He didn't answer and there was no voicemail setup. I waited a week, then called again. The third week, nothing. I grew frantic, then panicked. I had wasted our time together with sex—but damn, the sex. And now, I knew nothing about him, and the harder I looked for him, the less I found.