Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“I’m so sorry,” I say, anger burning in my gut as I pluck the butterflies out of the scattered flowers first. I have no idea if they’re still recording after being smashed against a wall and covered in water, but I’m not taking any chances.
“It’s not your fault,” Sydney says, appearing beside me, her palm extended. “I can take care of those.”
I set them in her hand. “Just make sure to wrap them up in something before you put them away. Just in case they’re still working.”
Sydney smiles. “Don’t worry. I have an idea.”
She steps into the kitchen, collecting a plastic freezer bag before moving back into the bedroom. I hear her voice a moment later and can’t resist following her.
When I reach the bathroom, Sydney’s holding the butterflies up to the mirror as she says, “You hear me? Leave him alone. He’s a good, kind man, who deserves a chance to be happy. And if you ever pull something like this again, I will bring the full power of my considerable fortune and connections to bear and sue you so deep into the ground, you’ll never see sky again. I hope we’re clear.”
Then she slips the butterflies into the plastic bag and crosses to the toilet where she lifts the lid on the back of the tank and drops the package inside.
I grunt and she spins, a guilty expression on her face. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to hear you defending my honor.”
Her cheeks flush as she pads across the room toward me. “I couldn’t help it. If she’s still listening, I needed her to know I mean business.”
“Don’t apologize. I loved it,” I say, deciding I can’t wait another second. I have to tell her. Now. “And I love you. I know it’s probably too soon, but—”
She leans into my arms, cutting me off with a big hug. “No, it’s not. It’s perfect. I love you, too. And I want to move in.” She pulls back, gazing up into my face. “I mean, if that’s okay with you?”
“I wanted to ask you sooner.”
Her smile widens. “Good. And sure, people might say we’re rushing things, but what’s the worst that could happen? I move in, we realize it’s too soon, and I move out again, right? That’s not so bad.”
“Not bad at all,” I say, my hands drifting down to squeeze her ass through her robe. “We should move your things this weekend. And if you can work remotely a few days next month, I’d love to show you my place in Burlington, introduce you to my friends there.”
Her pretty face lights up. “I’d love that. And I can probably make it work.” Her grin fades. “Assuming my dad doesn’t freak out about us dating and try to make things difficult. He’s never cared who my friends are, but dating is a different story. I was dating a guy he didn’t like my senior year of high school, so Dad enrolled me in self-defense classes every Friday and Saturday night. Seth broke up with me three weeks later for a girl who had at least part of her weekend free.”
I hum low in my throat. “But you’re not a child anymore. You don’t have to put up with that kind of treatment. Even from your father.”
“Who’s also my boss,” she says with a wry twist of her lips. “But you’re right. Hopefully, once he realizes how I feel, he’ll be supportive. And if not…I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. I’ll see if he has time for dinner tomorrow night. We could meet at Benedict’s uptown. It’s his favorite. Very old-school, lots of grilled meat and dark booths where our family drama won’t be observed.”
“Maybe there won’t be drama,” I say. “Maybe all the drama is on my side and Silas will realize I only want the best for you.”
She skims her nails up my neck to tangle my hair. “Maybe. But either way, I’m not giving you up, Mr. Gabaldon. I’m way too smitten.” She kisses me, slowly, deeply, with so much sweetness that I start to think cleaning up and ordering dinner can wait…
We make love again, this time face to face, with so much heart, that by the time I come deep inside her, it feels like she’s a part of me.
A part I never want to lose.
thirty-one
SYDNEY
I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous, not even in my senior year of high school, when letters from colleges started arriving at our apartment, each one a chance to please (or to fail) my father.
I had to get in to at least one Ivy League school. I didn’t have to go to Harvard or Yale—I already knew Boston University was the program I loved—but I had to get in. I had to turn them down, not vice versa, or my father would be so disappointed.