Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Is that a problem? We could stay at your place if you want.” He sounded a bit dubious, and I couldn’t blame him. My apartment, as much as I liked it, not only had fewer amenities, but it also had way more roommates. At least, of the human variety.
“That would not be the ideal setup for my favorite Overton,” I joked.
“Nonsense. I’m flexible. Remember I used to live in a tiny walk-up in—”
“I didn’t mean you, Oscar. I meant my favorite nocturnal Overton.”
“Oh, well, in that case…” More rustling came over the line, and then a ding in my ear alerted me to a new text. I clicked in, heart beating faster…
Oscar
I stared at the front of his suit pants, where, if I wasn’t mistaken, the fabric was more filled out than usual.
“I can be nocturnal,” Oscar promised, and I laughed out loud.
We flirted back and forth as the train pulled out of the station. The familiar sound of his voice was good company as the train picked up speed. He told me about his recent meeting with Chuckie and his plan to see his previous mentee in Boston next month. We never had trouble finding things to talk about, and I didn’t realize how long I’d kept him on the phone until the train stopped in Bloomfield and our call was still going.
“I’m here, so I’m going to have to go so I can get a ride to my sister’s place. I thought your flight would have taken off by now. What’s the delay?”
Oscar hesitated. “I, uh… told them to wait to take off until I finished the call.”
“You…? Oscar.” My face burned with embarrassment… and something else entirely. He’d delayed his entire flight crew to stay on the phone with me? There were times like this when I felt like I was the center of Oscar’s world. Like I meant more to him than his millions. Like so often happened with Oscar, the things he said were so very different from the things he felt. It was a heady feeling, even if I was only deluding myself. “Take off now and text me when you land,” I instructed before saying goodbye.
I was still feeling slightly off-center as I grabbed my bag and let myself get carried along with the crowd of happy, reunited families and bell-ringing Santas. Both my sister and Dex were running last-minute errands, so I took an Uber to their place and let myself in with the spare key. After stashing my bag in their guest room, I crashed on the couch in front of the Christmas tree to wait when I noticed a framed photo collage sitting on the coffee table. In the center was a picture from the courthouse wedding, and it was surrounded by snapshots from the nacho party. I hadn’t realized she had photos from either event, so I leaned forward to check them out.
In the center photograph, Abby stood on her tiptoes, pressed against Dex’s chest. His hands wrapped around hers, holding her to him as he gazed down into her eyes.
That was real love. The kind I’d always wanted. The kind I’d found.
Except it wasn’t, was it? That kind of love was only real when it was reciprocated. When it was acknowledged. When it was wanted.
I didn’t even realize I was crying until I heard my sister say, “Hey, what’s wrong?”
I looked up to see her standing in the doorway to the kitchen, several large shopping bags slung over her arm. I quickly wiped at my eyes and stood to give her a hug. “Hey! I didn’t hear you come in.”
She glanced at where I’d been sitting, taking in the collage. “Are the pictures really that bad? I know you have pretty high standards and all—”
I laughed, but it came out watery. “No, they’re great. Truly. You look so happy.”
“Then why the tears?”
I shook my head. It was Christmas Eve. She didn’t need me and my mangled heart bringing down the mood. “Nothing. Just… happy tears.”
She rolled her eyes. “Liar.” She dropped her bags on the floor and kicked off her shoes before moving to the couch. She sat, tucking her legs underneath her, and patted the spot next to her. “It’s Oscar, isn’t it?”
With a deep sigh, I slumped down next to her and nodded. “It’s complicated,” I admitted. “He’s been burned by love before way too many times, so he has this…” I blew out a breath. “This giant wall up… wrapped in razor wire, covered in booby traps, and smeared in a lethal toxin.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Impressive. And yet he’s willing to date you.”
“Actually…” With that single word, the dam broke, and tears flooded my face. “Not exactly,” I admitted before explaining the situation. As I spoke, her eyebrows only stretched higher until I feared for her hairline.