Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Am I jumping out of the safe aquarium that I’ve created around me to flop around on the floor, stupidly destroying myself in the process? Possibly.
But I’ve spent the last few days staring at the Post-It note with Maddox’s phone number scribbled on it, tracing the bold, rushed strokes and remembering how I felt in that hotel room—worshiped and wild. How it felt to see them again—exciting and terrifying. How my body instantly reacted—going hot and liquid before panic had won out, sending ice through my veins. And how I’ve looked forward to these gestures from them—feeling hopeful and girlishly giddy.
I’ve played out Samantha’s words in my head dozens of times, arguing for the proposition and the opposition and not winning either debate. If I want to date, I should. That doesn’t mean it has to be Riggs or Maddox. It definitely doesn’t need to be both of them. The potential scandal alone is off-putting.
But I want it to be them. I’ve never felt like I did with them—seen and heard as just myself, not my last name or my reputation. So, praying this won’t turn out like Belle’s ill-fated jump for freedom, I type out a message.
Dinner. No promises. Somewhere private.
I stare at it, wondering if I should soften it into something sweeter, maybe more romantic or at least friendlier. In the end, I hit send because that’s not who I am and I’m not changing for anyone. Or anyones.
Oh my God, am I really considering this? Am I actually doing this?
In under a minute, I get a reply.
Tomorrow at 7pm?
It’s followed by an address about an hour from my place in the city. Perfect, in that it’s somewhat anonymous, or as anonymous as I can be.
Looking forward to it.
It’s the safest answer I can come up with, true at its root but not revealing any of my panic.
Us too.
I reread the short exchange over and over, trying to decipher any hidden meaning in the few words but mostly just getting excited at the prospect of seeing them again. I also open my banking app and send a donation equal to the cost of the tickets plus some to the Harrington Foundation because these Devils tickets will not be offered at the gala. I’m keeping them for myself, though I’ll let Angeline and Jerry use them anytime they’d like.
Suddenly, I feel like I need a crash course in hockey.
RIGGS
When the doorbell rings, Maddox and I jump up from our spots on the two couches in the living room where we’ve been eyeing the front door for the last thirty minutes of impatient waiting. “She’s here,” he says.
I try not to laugh. He looks like a kid who just saw Santa Claus. “No shit.”
I’m putting up a good front of ‘couldn’t care less’, but I’m rushing for the door the same way he is, volleying for position with elbows out to get there first. Maybe we’re both trying to be first. In the end, he beats me, flashing a quick grin of victory before opening the door.
“Hello. Welcome. Howdy. How do you do?” he says, holding out an arm to invite her inside.
Has he lost the one brain cell he possesses? It’s possible. Is he nervous? That’s more likely. But that only makes me more tense. If Mr. Perpetually Optimistic thinks this has the potential to implode, chances are good to certain that it’s going to blow up in our faces.
I watch as her eyes look over Maddox and then me. “Hey,” I say by way of greeting, much cooler than Maddox’s too-eager verbal attack. Her gaze drifts past me to the house beyond.
“Is this your house? Or one of yours?” She looks confused about whom she’s asking.
“It’s both of ours,” Maddox offers.
“It’s not as weird as it sounds,” I add. “It just made financial sense.” Maddox glares at me, his lips pressed into a thin line, and I shrug, mouthing, “What?”
We definitely discussed the financial benefits of buying a home together before doing it, though we both know there’s more to it than that. But I’m trying to keep from scaring Kayla off.
Maddox seems to be taking another approach. Knowing him, it’s something like charm and bullshittery because he leans in close as he tells Kayla, “We have our own suites on opposite sides of the house. I’d be happy to give you a tour… if you’d like to come inside, said the spider to the fly.” Because yeah, she’s still standing in the doorway like she’s undecided about this.
Her answering smile is easy, unlike the woman before us. But I think her unapproachable, unattainable, arm’s length difficultness is what I like about her. I never would’ve thought I’d want a challenge and enjoy the chase. I’m more a ‘what you see is what you get’ sort, but with Kayla, I just want her. However she comes.