Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“I could get used to flying private.”
“You might need to fly this way soon so your boyfriend doesn’t get flanked by teenyboppers. I noticed yesterday that his Instagram had over a million followers already.”
“I know. And the movie hasn’t even come out yet.”
Miles’s love had landed the lead role in a movie adaptation of some big romantasy book series. Rodrigo was twenty-six, but he had a boyish charm and could pass for nineteen. He’d become a celebrity almost overnight. The teenage girls went gaga for him.
“Can’t say I blame them,” Miles continued. “I mean, look how adorable the man is. He has dimples when he’s sleeping, for God’s sake.”
We looked over at Rodrigo. He had a cheetah-print travel pillow hooked around his neck and was currently dozing with a slight smile on his face. And he did, in fact, still have dimples. I smiled. “I’m happy for you.”
“I’m happy for both of us,” Miles said. “What a difference a year makes.”
I tried not to think back to anything related to a year ago, anything related to Silas Clive. But I hadn’t been able to help it lately since my birthday was approaching. One year ago tomorrow, the card had arrived, setting off the chain of events that had finally allowed me to put the nightmare I’d been stuck in since my first year of college behind me.
Jagger had gotten lucky, and the police had ultimately decided not to charge him with assault. But Silas? Not so much. Two days after the police took him out of his Brooklyn apartment in handcuffs, he was charged with two counts of rape. But that was only the beginning of his troubles. Once his face had been flashed all over the news, three other women came forward who had never reported being assaulted. Two months later, he took a plea deal of sixty years in prison, rather than facing twenty-five years for each victim. He deserved life, but I was relieved not to have to testify.
Jagger came back from the bathroom and thumbed to the empty chair across the aisle that Miles had been seated in. “Beat it.”
I frowned. “Jagger…”
Undeterred, Miles stood with a grin. “It’s okay. With that face, he can get away with almost anything. Especially when he’s being possessive about my girl.”
Jagger settled back into his seat. “When do you have to be back at the office?”
“Monday, a week from tomorrow. Why?”
“Because I want to make a stop on the way home next Sunday.”
“Where?”
He passed me his cell phone. There was a text from Bridget Nelson, the wife of Jagger’s marine buddy.
Bridget: I hope we didn’t create a monster by letting him keep it.
Underneath was a picture of Lucas smiling, riding his new mountain bike. Two weeks ago, Jagger had received an out-of-the-blue phone call from the thirteen-year-old. Lucas had gotten his phone number from the back of the photo his mother had put in his room—the one that told him to call Jagger if he ever needed anything and his father wasn’t around. He’d called to ask for a new bike because his had been stolen. The following day, Jagger had flown down to Maryland with a bike on his private plane. Bridget had been mortified when he’d arrived. She’d had no idea her son had contacted him. But Jagger had been thrilled to put a smile on Lucas’s face.
“I’d like to make a stop in Maryland. I’m going to set up a college fund for Lucas and pay off their house, if you don’t mind.”
“Mind? Why would I mind?”
“I figured you wouldn’t, but I wasn’t about to give another woman a gift without running it by you first.”
I smiled. “I think that’s an amazing idea.”
“I’d like to visit more often, too.”
I kissed Jagger’s cheek. “I don’t care what you say—you have a sweet side, Mr. Langston.”
His eyes sparkled. “You may think so now, but I brought some toys that are going to make you question that statement. Now get your ass in the back bedroom and strip naked.”
***
St. Lucia was heaven—lush rainforests that smelled like hibiscus, twin pitons cloaked in vibrant greenery that rose from the azure-colored Caribbean, and miles and miles of white-sand beaches dotted with lazy coves. We’d spent the last two days scuba diving, sipping piña coladas, and swaying to the music of steel-drum bands at tucked-away bars. This afternoon we’d said goodbye to Miles and his boyfriend. Rodrigo had to go back home to continue shooting his movie, and tonight Jagger and I were having our first dinner alone.
The house we were staying in was located on the beach, and each evening we’d walked along the shoreline to find a different place to have dinner. I’d thought that’s what we were doing again tonight. But when we got to the water’s edge, there was a table set for two. A waiter appeared out of nowhere, holding a silver tray with two champagne flutes.