Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Even now, if I could go back… I’d do it all again.
As if I wasn’t already confused enough as it was, seeing the way he was with Otis… it stirred up all the emotions I’d managed to wrangle in the past couple of months. Because that was the man I knew lived inside Aleks. He was kind, and compassionate, and good.
He’d never felt those things about himself, but I saw it. I always had.
Even now, when I wanted to hate him, he did shit like that and reminded me I never could.
Aleks was in the kitchen when I emerged, his back to me as he tended to something on the stovetop. The television showed the local news reporting on the hurricane but it was muted, a jazz playlist crooning softly through the condo, instead.
“I made some rööschti,” he said, grabbing a couple pasta bowls from the cabinet to his left. “It’s nothing special, just some bacon and potato magic, but it’s one of my favorite comfort foods when I’m sick or it’s storming, raining, snowing.” He chuckled. “Not that we get any snow in Tampa.”
He plated up the first bowl, but when he turned to set it on the kitchen island, he froze at the sight of me.
Dark brown eyes dragged over me slowly, hungrily, with a simmering intensity that lodged my next breath firmly in my chest. He swallowed thickly, the bowl gripped tightly in his hand, his pupils blown out by the time they made their way back to meet my gaze.
“Christ, Mia.”
“What?” I asked, a bit breathlessly, I realized, before I tilted my chin up and folded my arms over my chest.
“You’re wearing my jersey.”
“Yeah, well, it was either this or the lingerie I packed when I thought I’d be sleeping alone,” I shot back, sliding onto one of the barstools at the island.
Aleks stayed frozen for a beat, his dark eyes locked on mine with a heat that made my skin prickle. Was he angry? People slept in jerseys, didn’t they? It was at least fine to wear casually around his condo… wasn’t it? Or was it an insult of some kind that I wasn’t aware of? Was I only supposed to wear it to a game?
I was still trying to figure it out when Aleks blinked, like the simple act of me sitting down snapped him back to this universe. In an instant, his usual cool demeanor slid back into place, the moment gone before I could untangle what that raw, unguarded possession in his gaze might have meant.
“Does that mean I’ll have company in my bed tonight?” he asked on a cocky smirk, setting the steaming bowl of rööschti down on the granite in front of me. It smelled like bacon potato heaven, and my stomach growled again.
“Ha, ha.”
“Oh, come on. You can serve up better banter than that.”
“I don’t have the energy or the desire right now,” I said, making a face at him before I picked up the fork and took my first bite. I didn’t even care that it was steaming hot and nearly burned my tongue off — it was delicious.
I noticed how Aleks paused then, his eyes locked on my hand. I was wondering if I was somehow offending him with the way I ate now when I realized he was looking at the ring.
The ring he’d given me.
The fake one that didn’t mean shit.
I covered it self-consciously, twisting it on my knuckle. “Obviously had to wear it for all the pictures today,” I murmured. “Forgot to take it off.”
It was only half a lie. I did wear it any time I knew I’d be photographed, but I also had taken it off when I showered.
I’d also put it right back on when I was done.
I loved that ring. I loved the words he’d said when he’d given it to me.
“Don’t,” Aleks said when I started to slip it off my finger. He held my gaze when I paused, questioning him. “I… I just don’t want you to forget it here.”
Right.
My shoulders slumped, disappointment simmering in my gut. As I dove into my food again, I internally scoffed at myself. I had no reason to be upset.
Story of my life lately.
Aleks made his own plate before taking a seat next to me. We ate in silence, jazz as our background music, interrupted intermittently by a particularly strong gust of wind. A few glances at the TV let me know that the hurricane was moving slowly through the Gulf, the worst of it expected to hit in the middle of the night.
“Looks like it’s going to hit farther north,” Aleks mused, stacking my bowl on top of his with his eyes on the television. He rounded the island to the sink, rinsing the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher.
“You think?”