Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
It was quite unfair how hot that was.
My stomach kept growling as I paced, appetite insistent on me finding some sugar. I was debating digging through my purse to see if I had peanut butter crackers stashed in there when the light to the kitchen in the main house flicked on, casting a warm glow over the pool.
I saw Will’s shadow next, and I smiled, making my way to the sliding glass door. He’d left it unlocked in case I needed to get inside for anything, but he still jumped a little when I slid it open, his hand gripping the fridge handle tight as he whipped around.
He relaxed a bit when he realized it was me, though the way his scowl deepened didn’t do anything to ease my late-night anxiety. The sigh he let out next as he pulled a gallon of milk from the fridge didn’t exactly make me feel welcome, either.
The man was harder to figure out than the sewing method for a Victorian bustle dress.
He was the one who asked me to move in. He was the one who said he wanted this. And yet, all weekend, he’d grumped about like I was the biggest inconvenience.
“Ah, we meet again,” I teased as I slid inside the kitchen, taking my familiar spot at the island. “Only this time, you’re not coming home from an away game. Don’t tell me you have midnight existential crises, too?”
Will harrumphed, giving me a look before he grabbed a glass from the cabinet. He held one toward me in a silent question, his eyebrow raised, but I shook my head.
“I’m more of a snack girl at this time of night,” I said. “Got any cookies?”
Will stared at me for a long moment before plucking a pack of Oreos from the pantry. He slid it in front of me, and I let out a very unladylike groan of approval before ripping the packaging open and popping one into my mouth.
“So,” I said when Will just shook his head at me. “Are you changing your mind now that I’m here?”
He frowned. “Of course not. Why would you ask that?”
“Oh, only because you’ve been alternating between giving me death glares and stomping around here like a grumpy bear the last two days,” I said with a shrug, plucking another cookie from the package. I debated dunking it in his milk, but thought it would be better to keep my hand in tact since I had to teach in the morning.
Will let out a sigh, staring at the glass in his hands before taking a small sip. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not you, it’s just…”
He fell silent, his jaw working like he was chewing on the words he wasn’t sure how to say.
When his eyes slid back up to meet mine, they were laced with sorrow, with a vulnerability that nearly made me choke on the cookie I’d half-swallowed.
“You have no idea how hard this has all been for me.”
He didn’t have to elaborate on what this meant. It was written in every line of his face.
This poor guy had been battling being a single father, on top of a high-performance athlete, all while flipping through a catalogue of sorry excuses for nannies who only added to his stress.
My bet was he was wondering how long I’d last, wondering how long he could count on me before he’d be back to square one.
I stopped chewing, holding his gaze a moment before I swallowed and nodded. “I think I’ll take that milk now.”
He poured me a glass, and I washed down the dry cookie in my throat before finding his gaze again. How he could look tired and yet devastatingly handsome at the same time was a very unfair magic trick. Somehow, the bags under his eyes only made him more enticing. Paired with the way his long hair was half-contained by a hair band at the nape of his neck, and half-mussed by what I assumed was him running his hand through it, he looked like a paid model for an underwear ad.
At least he was wearing pajama pants and a white t-shirt.
I probably would have fainted if he was shirtless.
“I’m sorry it’s been hard,” I finally said when I could speak again. “But… hopefully this is the start of it being easier. Hopefully I can help take some of the pressure off.”
He nodded, his eyes finding his hands again. “So… midnight existential crisis, huh?” He cocked an eyebrow when he looked at me again. “This a nightly occurrence?”
“Close to it. Sometimes I go a few days without one, but that’s rare.”
“And what is it that keeps you awake?”
“Oh, you know, thoughts of how we’re a tiny marble of life floating in space, in a universe where there are more stars than grains of sand on Earth.”