Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Blair smiles, and I’m thankful every fucking day that I made the choice I did. If it wasn’t for her, I’m not sure where I would be right now. She’s helped me in ways she doesn’t even understand. There’s a knock at the door, and Blair and I look at each other with a smile and then to the door. A moment later, the door comes swinging open, and Murphy saunters into our apartment with a case of beer.
“The party has arrived.” He bats his eyes at Blair.
“By party, you mean the next-door neighbor that never goes away?”
Murphy’s dark eyes narrow on me. “Excuse me, but it’s not my fault that you moved. We’re best friends and no offense, Blair, but I was your roommate before her, and since I obviously can’t stay with you guys, next door seemed like the better option, now shut up, there’s a game on.”
“You know you have a TV at your house, right?”
He looks at me like I’m dumb. “Yeah, but I don’t have a Blair at my house.”
“Do not even fucking look at her,” I growl, a possessiveness overtaking me.
“Chill, caveman.” He chuckles. Walking into the living room, he shoves down onto the couch like he owns the place.
Blair walks over to me and cups me by the cheek. I will never get enough of feeling her skin on mine.
“I love you. I feel bad for any woman that gets swept into the madness that is Murphy.”
“Murphy is sitting right here, so you can stop talking about him,” he yells back at us.
Both Blair and I bust out into laughter. The buzzing of my cell phone interrupts the moment, and I grab it from the coffee table and look at the name on the screen. It’s a number I don’t recognize, so I ignore it and let it go to voicemail.
My father has tried to call me a few times to stir the pot, but I’ve ignored him for the most part. Until he gets the help he needs, he’ll never see the wrong he is doing, and I’ve come to terms with that.
Again, my phone dings, signaling that I have a voicemail. Kissing the tip of Blair’s nose, I reach for the phone and check my voicemail.
Hello, Mr. Wilder. My name is Tasha, and I am a lawyer at Baker Law Office. I’m calling to discuss the trust fund your mother, Rebecca, left in your name. If you could call me back at your earliest convenience, I would appreciate it. Thank you.
I almost drop the phone, and my mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“What’s wrong?” Blair immediately asks.
“My mother. She left a trust fund in my name. That’s what the call was, a lawyer.”
Instantly, a calmness washes over me, and I know I’ll be able to take care of Blair and myself. The money doesn’t matter, no, we’re happy as we’re now, but it’s almost as if my mother left me a parting gift, as if she knew someday, I might decide something else besides football.
It’s like she knew that I might need her.
“That’s good, right?”
I grin and tug her into my arms, pressing my nose to hers. “It’s more than good, baby. It means our future is set. It means when we decide to marry and have babies, we will have money.”
“Babies? Marriage? Are you high?” she shrieks.
“Can you please keep it down, some of us are trying to watch TV,” Murphy complains, and I roll my eyes. Brushing my lips against Blair’s, I peer into her eyes, her soul matches mine, she is my missing puzzle piece. The jock and the nerd. No one would’ve thought it.
“No, I’m not high. I’m in love.” I say, sealing our fates with a kiss that I feel down to the tips of my toes.
Later that night, after I kick Murphy out, sending him back to his apartment with a frown, I walk into our bedroom and find Blair sitting against the headboard with a paperback in her hands. Standing in the doorway for a long moment, I simply stare at her.
The very first item I ever bought her was a bookshelf that now sits in the corner of the room. We’ve bought another together since then because Blair wasn’t kidding when she said she loved reading. On any given day, I can find her curled up somewhere in the house with a cup of coffee and a book in her hand.
As if she can sense my eyes on her, she looks up from the book and smiles.
“It’s very rude to stare at someone while they’re reading.”
“Is it?” I grin, playing dumb.
“Very.” She closes her paperback and sits it down on the pillow. When she looks back up at me, her eyes are shining with lust.