Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
My phone shook in my trembling fingers and I was breathing a little too fast.
Rafe considered me carefully and slowly got to his feet. “Are you okay?”
I walked into his arms, face-planting on his chest and, like always, he wrapped me up tight. “I feel sick.”
“Star—”
“But only because I hate being mean to anyone. She needed to hear what I had to say.”
“She did,” he murmured in agreement, his hands smoothing up and down my back in comfort. “You were amazing. I’m proud of you.”
“Arlo left her. For Maggie.”
“Wow. You sure you’re okay?”
I pulled my head back to stare up at him. “I stopped trying to make that woman feel like family a long time ago. Yet somehow, every time she ignored a call or a text, it still hurt. But she’ll never change, Rafe. She’s not someone I can count on and I’ve realized that to be happy, I need to feel like I can count on the people in my life. So I’m good. Being done with her . . . it feels right. I feel free of her. She can’t hurt me this way.”
Cupping my face in his hands, Rafe bent his head to kiss me softly, lovingly. “If that’s what you truly need, then you did the right thing. So proud of you, baby,” he reiterated.
I grinned up at him, still a little wet-eyed, still feeling shaky from my confrontation, but not enough to stop myself from saying, “You will not follow my example with your brother. You and Hugo need to fix this.”
He searched my face. “That is not your fault.”
“It kind of is.”
“Star—”
“Rafe. I can’t be this issue between you two. Please.”
“How are you not angrier at what he said?”
“I’m more hurt than angry. And I do know I deserve an apology. But hopefully that will come with time. For now, I just want you two talking again.”
“I can’t apologize to him.” His gaze was fierce on mine. “If he doesn’t apologize first to me, I’ll always hold some resentment against him. We started disagreeing over things as soon as I told my family I wanted to be a vet instead of joining the family business. Hugo took it worse than my dad. The things we’ve disagreed over have been mostly stupid shit, other than the company. Until two weeks ago when, drunk or not, he hurt you. He crudely insulted a kind, sweet woman who means a great deal to me. That I won’t let go.”
The “means a great deal to me” elated me. We hadn’t exchanged those three little words yet. I hadn’t said them because I’d never said them to a guy before and it still freaked me out a little. Rafe hadn’t said them yet and maybe that was why it still freaked me out a little.
Not to mention I was worried and frustrated that I’d made no progress in the reuniting of Rafe and Hugo Whitman.
* * *
• • •
Pamela Smythe was talented. I’d expected when Pippa had walked me into her friend’s office two weeks ago that I’d find myself surrounded by modern, minimalist design, but what I discovered was a designer who really listened to her clients.
I’d checked out the big beautiful professional books in the reception area of the small firm that bound pages and pages of Pamela’s designs. She could rock the industrial New York loft look and was a master at the maximalist style. The woman knew how to pull together colors and patterns that most people wouldn’t think worked. Plus, she’d come up with some really cool and inventive storage solutions for small spaces, something she had to deal with a lot in New York City.
Was I thrilled to be the assistant to an interior designer? No. But I also didn’t hate it.
I disliked my new wardrobe more than I disliked my new job.
Pippa had insisted that I needed to dress the part, and while I’d talked her out of the scary pencil skirts and blouses she’d tried to shove in my face on a forced shopping trip, I had compromised. Today, for instance, I wore wide-leg black pants and a violet-blue blouse with balloon sleeves. With my hair twisted up into a ponytail, I’d never looked more chic and I’d never looked less like myself.
When Rafe had stepped out of the shower that morning, I’d been dressed and ready to go since Pamela needed me at the office early for a meeting her would-be client had to squeeze in before work. Rafe had frozen at the sight of me, a towel around his waist, as his gaze drifted down my body and back up again.
Did I mention I was wearing heels? Not wedges. Heels.
At the inexplicable look that crossed his face, nervousness built in me. “Do I look okay? This is one of the outfits Pippa and I chose.”