Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Leo’s face split with a wide grin as he took it all in, and even more so as he flipped through and found more and more scenes waiting — everything from quiet mornings playing video games to sensual nights of us in the sheets. He stared particularly long at the one I’d drawn of us sitting on the roof, his letterman draped over my shoulders.
“This is incredible, Stig,” he breathed, finally looking up from the pages and finding my gaze.
“It’s not much,” I combatted. “But, as you know, things are kind of tight. I thought—”
“It’s better than anything money could buy,” he refuted before I could finish.
Then, the notebook was on the bedside table.
And Leo was laying me down in his sheets.
Mary
When I was eleven, my parents surprised me with the best gift ever.
I had a feeling it was going to be the best gift ever, because they’d sent me away to stay the night with my cousin, saying they needed to prepare my birthday surprise. I could barely sleep that night, and the next morning, I declined breakfast, desperate to race back to my house and see what it was.
I walked in to the corner of my room being completely converted into an art studio.
They’d set everything up — the brand-new desk, a dozen different-sized sketchbooks, pens and pencils and markers of all shapes and sizes and widths and colors and depths. The cherry on the cake was a brand-new tablet, one already set up with a drawing program.
I’d sobbed, clinging to my father and thanking him incessantly.
“It was your mom’s idea,” he’d whispered.
I was so shocked when I turned back to find my mother with tears in her eyes, and then I was clinging to her, crying a hundred thank yous into her shirt as she held me tight.
That memory curled around me like fog as I headed toward the shop, that same impatient, giddy feeling settling into my bones. Because just like then, I had a feeling I was walking into good news.
I had a feeling I was walking into a permanent job offer at the studio.
It was Monday, and the shop was closed, but Nero had asked me to come in for a couple hours. He’d assured me no toilets would be cleaned, and I’d laughed, all the while bouncing left to right just knowing there would be a job offer waiting for me.
Leo had thoroughly enjoyed watching me tear through dozens of outfits before landing on The One Where I Got Promoted. He was walking out the door to head back to campus for class after sneaking home with just enough time to make my toes curl before he had to go back. I couldn’t wait for the end of the night, where we’d both be home celebrating together.
As I drove, I imagined what I’d be walking into. I wondered if they’d already have my space set up and decorated, my name and photo on the wall. I wondered if the rest of the crew would be there, too, with signs and balloons and a cake. Welcome to the team! they’d all say.
I was truly floating by the time I parked, and I rode the cloud into the shop, hanging my coat and scarf along with my bag on the hooks by my temporary chair. It was quiet, but a smile still split my face.
“Hello?” I called.
“Back here!”
I followed the sound of Nero’s voice to the back office. His brows were furrowed as he worked on a design on his iPad, but he grinned ear to ear when I walked in, setting it aside. “Hey, Mary J.”
He was up out of the chair and halfway to me before I could tell him that I did not want that nickname. I’d heard it enough as a kid to have to ever hear it again as an adult. But his smile was so big when he wrapped me in a bear hug that I figured I could save that for another time.
Nero’s hands stayed on my arms as he pulled away, and he looked me up and down from head to toe. I’d landed on one of my favorite black blouses that was form-fitting but modest, along with dark skinny jeans, and black pointy-toed boots with a three-inch heel. It was simple, and yet the way each piece accented my curves and lines, it made me feel powerful.
“You look… stunning,” he said, still holding on.
“Thanks,” I replied, blushing a little. Not because of his eyes, but because I was having flashbacks to putting on this outfit and having Leo immediately strip me out of it and bend me over the desk in our room.
Our room.
I tried not to linger on that thought.
Clearing my throat, I stepped out of his grasp and pretended to tidy up some files on one of the desks. “So, what do you need help with?”