Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
When Eve closed her eyes, the inundation of images almost buried her. Madden standing at the altar. Eve dozing in the crook of his arm while waves rolled up lazily on the shore nearby. Him raking up fall leaves in a front yard. Their eyes meeting across a table set for the holidays. His hair silvering. Laughter. Peace.
She opened her eyes on a gasp, demanding the twist in her chest to abate.
Usually, when she let her fantasies get the best of her, Eve used Skylar as the oar to paddle her to safety. Never mind her other reasons for denying the romantic feelings between herself and Madden. Her friendship with Skylar was at stake. She’d leaned on Skylar’s crush so many times that it had become a habit. One she apparently hadn’t quite broken, because she was dialing her best friend before she could stop herself.
“Eve!” Skylar answered midway through the second ring. “I was just thinking about you! How are the kids? How are you? I have a million questions, but I’m running out the door to practice.”
“Sorry, bad timing—”
“Rocket,” a very deep, very male voice called in the background. “Don’t forget your cleats are in my back seat.”
“Oh, um. Right. I’ll probably need my cleats for practice . . .” Skylar mumbled, suspiciously breathless. “Don’t ask me why they’re in Robbie’s back seat.”
“I’m afraid I must,” Eve said on a rush of breath, her eyes stinging at the sound of her friend so happy. Surprised to find out . . . she wasn’t surprised at all. Not after the way Skylar had spoken about Robbie with such tenderness the last time they’d seen each other. Deep down she’d known their relationship was special, hadn’t she?
Accepting it was harder.
“What can I say? He likes a girl in uniform.” Skylar sighed. “And out.”
Their laughter mingled on the line. “Things are going strong with Robbie, then?”
“Yes.” Eve had never heard Skylar’s laugh so carefree before. “Yes, they are.”
Eve closed her eyes and swallowed the fist-size lump in her throat. Part of her didn’t want to ask the next question, because she already knew the answer. Already knew in her bones that Skylar had moved on from Madden. And that meant what now?
The only obstacle was Eve.
Eve wet her lips. “It almost sounds like the torch you’ve been carrying for Madden is . . .”
“Extinguished. Yeah.” Something passed between them in that moment and Eve got the suspicion that Skylar might have finally realized Eve had been carrying a torch of her own. Thankfully, Skylar didn’t say it out loud, because Eve wouldn’t have known how to handle that revelation, in addition to everything else. “He’s an amazing guy, you know? He’s just not my guy.”
“Yeah.” He can’t be mine either. “Listen, I don’t want to hold you up. Go to practice and we’ll talk soon.”
A minute later, Eve straightened her spine and texted Madden.
Can we talk?
Chapter Eleven
Madden moved aside the old lace curtain to look out the window, warmth trickling down into his stomach when he realized Eve was giving herself a pep talk in the car. Night stood on the verge of falling, so her features were in the shadows, but he could see her mouth moving. Could sense her resolve, though he could only predict what she had to be resolved about. Saying no to his proposal?
The warmth in his stomach soured and Madden let the curtain drop, raking a hand through his hair and taking up a post on the other side of the room. Leaning a shoulder against the wall to wait for Eve to be ready.
Tonight would mark the first time she’d ever been in his aunt’s house—Fiona hadn’t been one for visitors—and although his aunt had passed, this was still, very distinctly, her house. Waterford crystal candleholders in the center of the coffee table. Rosary beads hanging from the doorknob. Lace pillowcases that matched the curtains, sewn by herself. Madden couldn’t bring himself to change a single thing. Couldn’t make this house his own or sell it to anyone else. No. He left everything as it was, preserving the legacy of the woman who’d saved him.
Aye, his aunt Fiona had quietly given him sanctuary from the turmoil he’d grown up with. She’d survived her own, once upon a time. They might not have been blood relatives, but they’d been cut from the same cloth, Madden and his aunt. Beyond the first time, they didn’t talk to each other about their trauma. The comfort was unspoken. She’d offered him love through deeds, such as hiring an immigration attorney to take them through the lengthy process of obtaining a green card, which he hadn’t achieved until his first year in college.
Madden wouldn’t describe his relationship with Fiona as close. It was more they’d shared a silent, mutual place to heal. She treasured the privacy of her home above everything, and while he’d often wondered what had led to that need for constant calm, he never questioned her out loud or invited over his friends.