Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I blinked hard and looked away, trying to swallow down the jealousy rising in my throat.
“I’ve missed you,” Grace said, pulling back but still holding his arms.
Lucian chuckled. “It’s barely been a week.”
“Still too long.” She patted his cheek before turning her attention to me. “And this must be Aspen.”
I tried to project an air of calm, keeping my posture relaxed and my gaze steady, though a flutter of nerves danced beneath the surface. Would she think I wasn’t good enough? Would she look down on me? Would she judge me based on my heritage and only see stereotypes?
I could not have been more wrong.
She gasped and glanced back at Lucian, her eyes shining with pure delight. “Lucian, she is simply stunning.”
He laughed softly and nodded.
“You,” she said, focusing back on me, “are gorgeous. Way out of his league.”
“Hey, now,” Lucian grumbled.
She gave me a conspiratorial wink, reaching out to hug me next. I froze for what was probably only a millisecond, but stretched on forever in slow motion as I watched her close in.
An irrational hope flared in my chest, wanting to feel what Lucian did. Once her arms wrapped around me, I snapped back into action and returned the hug. While I didn’t get the same sensation I had from my mom, warm acceptance washed over me. Grace’s hug was all-encompassing, and with it, a tight knot of tension in my chest unraveled. I struggled to force my arms to let go when she pulled away.
“Sorry.” She winced, brushing a graying blonde wave behind her ear. “I’m a hugger. Especially when it’s the woman my godson has been talking to for over a year. Do you know he wouldn’t even tell us your name until he knew he was proposing? And that was almost five months ago.”
I smiled and shook my head. “I don’t mind hugs at all.”
Then I processed exactly what she said, my face twisting in confusion. Five months?
“Wait. What?”
“We should head in,” he declared too loudly to be normal, ignoring my question. “I’m sure Felix is anxious to meet her as well. And dinner is probably ready. Don’t want it getting cold.”
“Of course. He is beyond ready to meet the woman to make you believe in love again,” Grace said as she headed inside.
Lucian huffed a deprecating laugh and took my hand to follow, but I pulled back. “What?” he asked
“What did she mean by five months?” I whispered. “We only met five months ago.”
He shook his head, frowned, and shrugged. “It was probably just a mix-up. Come on.”
With his hand on my back, and Grace waiting at the door, I had no choice but to smile and follow along, despite my doubts.
Once we were inside, Grace took my jacket and led us into the dining room to meet Felix. He welcomed me just as his wife did—with joy, acceptance, and excitement. Although his greeting was tinged with an exhaustion he couldn’t hide behind his pressed suit and open smile.
Despite their formal home and waitstaff, dinner progressed with casual conversation, easy questions, and stories about Lucian as a child. By the time we finished, all of us with a glass of wine—and a tea for Felix—my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
“Has he shown the scar behind his ear?” Felix asked, his voice strong and out of breath at the same time.
“No, he hasn’t,” I answered, narrowing my eyes at Lucian.
Lucian rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched.
“Since we were like family with his parents, Lucian spent almost as much time at our house as his own. And his favorite thing to do was sliding down the banister,” Grace said with a laugh.
“Your mother always claimed you’d end up getting hurt and that each time you flew to the bottom, you gave her a heart attack,” Felix chimed in.
“He gave all of us a heart attack,” Grace grumbled.
“Not me and his father. We knew he’d survive whatever fall and end up learning from it. He was a strong boy.”
“Mom could be dramatic sometimes,” Lucian explained, laughing softly, staring into the red wine he swirled in his glass.
“Turns out she had a right to be,” Grace declared.
“We were both right,” Felix claimed. “When he was about eight, he was into superheroes and wore a cape—which was an oversized blanket—whenever he could. It ended up being his downfall because when he slid down the banister with it on, it tangled in the balusters and sent him flying off the side.”
“Into the corner of my console table,” Grace finished.
Lucian scoffed. “I was fine.”
Grace glared at him. “You’re lucky you didn’t hit your temple.”
I studied Lucian, trying to picture him as a carefree little boy—or even the young man they’d spent the night painting. It was hard to imagine, yet not impossible. Tonight, he smiled more than I’d ever seen him, his face softer, free of the shadows that had earned him the nickname Mr. Dark and Dangerous after our first meeting.