Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
“I live in a family of overachieving showboats.” A corner of his mouth wings up dryly. “We have to fight for every piece of attention we get.”
He’s overstating. I’ve seen the Lucks praise and fawn over each other without prompting. They love lifting each other up. For them, everyone in the family is a star, no matter what they’ve done in life. And maybe that’s the difference.
“Mom is a star of the stage. She walks into a room and holds it. Even with you all. It’s as natural as breathing to her. And Dad, well . . .” I shrug him off. “Seeking attention in the face of Dad’s abandonment and Mom’s exuberance is as uncomfortable as wearing underwear that’s too tight.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yes.” Leaning forward, I rest my hands on my knees and tell him earnestly, “I don’t need it, August. As long as I’m appreciated and not ignored, I’m happy. Being in the spotlight? No. I never wanted it.”
He frowns and glances out the window, giving me his coin-crisp profile. “You’re stuck in it when you’re with me.”
Am I? I suppose a little. But he’ll always be the main focus when it comes to the outside world. I’m okay with that. More so, I like that.
“But I’m there with you,” I tell him.
His attention snaps back to me, puzzled.
“When I’m with you, August, I feel like I’m the person I’m supposed to be. Like I was . . . waiting for you all along.”
His shoulders drop, and he blinks down at the floor as if unseeing. Fear snakes along my spine as I watch him clench his fists and struggle for air.
“Ah, Pen . . .” August blows out a hard breath. “You have no idea—”
He doesn’t say anything else, and that niggle of worry worms its way farther into my chest. Because he looks so stricken. Was it so wrong of me to want him this much? My fingers turn cold.
The line of his jaw bunches as he finally speaks in a short tone. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“What?” I can’t feel my face.
“Shit. That came out wrong.” He rubs his palms against his thighs in agitation. “I meant lying. I’ve been lying to you, Pen. I don’t want to do that anymore.”
Okay. That’s a little better. I guess. Wait, lying?
I swallow a few times before I find my voice. “How have you been lying?”
“I . . . shit. Okay, let me say it all before you decide to kill me, all right?”
Numbly, I nod.
“Right.” He runs a hand over his hair, making the ends stick up wildly. “Okay. Well. It’s like this. My team didn’t demand I get engaged.”
“They . . . didn’t?”
“No. They didn’t even ask for me to be in a relationship. It was more broad strokes, clean up your act and stop being a clown.”
“But, why—”
“Because I opened a door, and there you were. Penelope Morrow. The one I’ve always wanted.”
“Wait. Wait! What?”
“And for once, for fucking once, you weren’t looking at me with your cute little nose wrinkling in distaste. For once, you talked to me, flirted with me. Christ, Pen. Do you understand what that did to me? Fucking poleaxed. Made my head spin.”
He’s at the edge of his chair now, his big body straining toward mine as he confesses in a rough voice. “Not only that, but, once you really started talking, I loved it. I always suspected we’d have fun together, given the chance. But to actually know it? To witness you giving as good as you got? Pen, it was like being deprived of air and suddenly breathing.”
I understand, because I’d felt the same.
“I didn’t want to be parted from you. Not after only a few hours. And, yes, I should have just been honest and asked you out, I know this. But after a lifetime of disdain, I couldn’t risk it. So I made up a lie and hoped it would give me more time to be with you.
“Only, a lie, once uttered becomes a tangled web, doesn’t it? I had you, but not for real. Even when I could finally admit how much I wanted you, I couldn’t admit the full truth. Because I might lose you.”
With this, he slumps back in the chair and eyes me with a mix of trepidation and a bit of defiance as though he’s sorry about the lies but not the fear of losing me.
And for a heavy moment, I can only stare back.
“You did all this—” I wave a hand in the air to encompass the whole of his deception “—because you wanted to spend more time with me?”
“Yes.” The confession is tight, his jaw bunched as though bracing for impact, while, as for me, the worry and fear slides from my shoulders. Something else replaces it. Light, fizzy. My head feels like it’s floating. He’s shocked me well and good. And my brain seems to be shorting out.