Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
And yet, my favorite standout moment of the last few weeks was just a few nights ago. Christina informed me Becky would be accompanying me to Paris Fashion Week for some cooked-up reason she’d whispered in her boss’s ear, and I was stressed and pissed off. Baird had given me a key to his place, and I was supposed to be meeting him there. He’d called to tell me a property management work meeting was running late. I’d decided to fill my time by running a bubble bath in Baird’s oversized, egg-shaped tub to decompress from the terrible news. I hadn’t had a bubble bath in forever.
I was luxuriating in said tub, Hozier playing from my phone, when Baird came running into the bathroom, giving me the fright of my life.
His cheeks were flushed, and he was already tugging at his tie.
“What on earth?”
He grinned even as he devoured me with his gaze. “I heard Hozier.”
It took me a second and then I burst into laughter. Laughter that only got more hysterical as I watched him tear off his clothes like an excited schoolboy. He knocked over a plant pot, stumbled into the sink trying to get his trousers off, skidded on the bath towel I’d laid down and nearly landed on his arse … it was chaotic and hilarious. There were tears in my eyes by the time he lunged into the tub, sending water cascading over the sides.
I’d squealed as he reached for me, totally uncaring of the mess he was making. Even as he kissed me, I burst out laughing again. “I’m sorry,” I wheezed, “I just keep picturing it.”
He grinned at my teasing, completely unabashed by his less than suave seduction attempts. “You’re ruining Hozier.”
I snorted. “I think you ruined Hozier.”
“Aye?” He dipped his hand in the water between us and I sucked in a breath at the feel of his thumb on my clit. “You sure about that?”
“Hmm … maybe … maybe I can be convinced otherwise.” I gasped as he pushed his fingers inside me.
From there, Baird made languid, decadent love to me in his bathtub and we didn’t get out until we were both wrinkled and pruned. He made me scarily happy. For the fifty millionth time in two weeks, I held back the words I love you.
I didn’t know why I was holding myself back.
Correction: I did know why. I just didn’t like thinking about it.
I was terrified of rejection, abandonment.
Therefore, I was waiting for Baird to take that first step.
Beth brought me back from the memory to the nightclub with a teasing comment. “Can you at least tell us if the dresses will be 1990s ‘I hate my bridesmaids’ or twenty-first century ‘I want my girlies to look hot’?”
“You two would look hot in a bin bag and you know it.”
Lily shrugged. “You know I don’t care either way.”
Beth side-eyed her. “Make me look bad for caring, why don’t you?”
Lily grinned unapologetically, her dimples creasing her cheeks.
“You know I can’t stay even pretend mad at you when you pull out the dimples. No fair.” Beth flicked a cocktail stick at her.
“They’re lethal, aren’t they?” Sebastian dipped his head into our conversation. “I can never say no to her. It’s terrible. Dimple terrorism, I tell you.”
Lily chucked the cocktail stick at him in answer, and he chuckled and turned back to the guys’ conversation.
“I thought you were both coming to the store on Thursday to pick dresses?” That’s what the so-called wedding planner had told me. I’d had all the bridal party options already shipped to my department.
“We are.” Beth nodded. “That doesn’t mean I’m not curious.”
“All the options are good. Trust me.”
“I trust you.” Lily shrugged. “You’re the chicest person I know.”
“You’re determined to make me look like the annoying bridesmaid, aren’t you, wee cuz?” Beth narrowed her eyes teasingly.
“It’s not my fault you’re so nosy.” She stuck her tongue out at Beth.
I’d just let out a laugh that froze in my throat when the familiar opening synth pop beat of “Kids” by MGMT flooded the mezzanine.
No.
Bloody hell.
Not again.
Why was this DJ so obsessed with this song?
The blood rushed in my ears, my cheeks flushing, and I was vaguely aware of an insistent nudge against my upper arm. Turning blindly, I barely processed Baird’s concerned face and him gently trying to get me out of the booth.
Like I was on autopilot, I slid out, my legs shaky as the memories flooded in like clockwork.
Mum standing in the kitchen, looking much healthier than the last memory I had of her, grinning as she spun me around, shouting the lyrics at the top of her voice. Her cupping my face in her palms to whisper them, bright tears in her eyes, like I meant something to her.
Like she did love me.
“My.” Baird tugged me toward the middle of the mezzanine where there was a little more room to maneuver.