Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“Weekends,” I repeat, pressing my lips together.
Jude narrows his eyes on me. “I’ll think about it.”
I laugh lightly, and Jude’s nose wrinkles as I move him aside.
“Here we are,” the nurse declares as she enters the room. She has hands full of dressings and a face that’s quite alarmed when she sees Jude’s so close to me.
“I didn’t do that,” he says, catching the nurse’s expression too.
“Jude,” I murmur.
“No, I need her to know I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“Jude, I—”
“I would never lay a finger on her. I lo—”
“Jude, for God’s sake, shut up!” I snap, and he recoils, wounded, shrinking where he’s standing. He’s just making it worse. “He didn’t do this,” I affirm with grit as I take the bandages from the nurse. “He’s an idiot, but he’s not a monster.”
Jude blinks, shrinking more, and the nurse bats her eyes between us before she eventually nods and backs out of the room. Whether that nod be acceptance or not, I don’t know. I stuff the dressings in my bag and get down off the bed. “You can take me home.”
“It’s Sunday, so I believe you’re on my time right now.”
“You’re taking me home,” I say surely, ignoring my body’s demand to let him at me. To fix this. To take us into that wonderful bubble of perfection. His body. My body. Connected.
“I said I’d think about your proposal, and you can’t even give me the last few hours left of the weekend, when you just told me weekends are mine.”
“I said one day on the weekend,” I remind him as he takes my good hand and opens the door.
“Jesus Christ, Amelia, it gets worse.”
“Jude, come on,” I breathe. “I can’t just run off to Arlington Hall with you like nothing’s happened. Besides, I have to pack.”
“Pack for what?”
“I’m moving out of Abbie’s.”
He recoils, looking down at me as we walk. “Moving out?”
“I finally found an apartment. I get the keys Friday.”
“You have a new apartment? Where?”
“Plaistow.”
“That means nothing to me. Is it on the right side of London?”
“For what?”
“Oxford.”
I shake my head. “It’s West London.” And will add at least another half an hour onto the journey to Arlington Hall.
“Jesus, Amelia.”
“It’s what I can afford, where I can afford.” And it’s gorgeous, a cute little ground-floor flat in an old Victorian terrace with a courtyard garden, which is something I never imagined I’d get for my budget. “I need to finish packing and—”
“You said you’d let me fix this. How can I fix it when you’re over an hour away from me?”
It’s how he plans on fixing it that worries me. Falling into bed with him is not the answer. Building trust is. “Jude—”
“Please, Amelia.” He stops us when we make it outside and cups the side of my face in his big palm. “I’ve missed you so fucking much. I just want to be with you.”
I look at him, this tall, godly, stunning man, begging me, and my heart melts. And, really, I desperately want to be with him too. “Okay,” I whisper, ignoring my head, seeing him fold with relief. What am I doing? “Fine.”
“You’re talking like you don’t want to.”
“You know I want to. I’m just not sure if I should.”
“You should.” I let him get me in the Rolls-Royce when it rolls to a slow stop. “Given you’re incapacitated, I think it’s wise for you to stay with me until you’re better.”
“Didn’t you hear the conversation we just had?” I pull the armrest down. “We start slowly. Weekends.”
Jude pushes it straight back up, reaching for me and tugging me close. “I heard, and I told you”—he kisses my hair—“I’m thinking about it.”
“It’s not a request.” I put myself on the other side of the car, my back to the door, and look at him. His slight scowl is endearing. “How did you know where to have Anouska send your fake spa day special-deal email?”
His scowl deepens. “The night you left Amazonico without paying, I offered to settle the bill in exchange for the contact details on the reservation.”
“Crafty. And what if Abbie didn’t take your bait? Or maybe booked it for herself and didn’t invite me?”
“Then I’d have found another way to get you to Arlington Hall.”
“Like a work conference?”
“Maybe.”
“And my wallet that was found in the changing rooms?”
“That was in case the work conference didn’t”—he considers his words for a second—“work out.”
“You stole my wallet?”
“I borrowed it.”
“And how many women have you placed bets on with the married woman you were fucking?”
Jude winces, the conversation finally getting uncomfortable for him. “A few.”
“Two, three? Ten? Twenty?”
“Why do you need specifics?” He throws his hands up, exasperated. “I’m not proud, Amelia. I’m a man who didn’t have the time or energy to invest in a relationship. The arrangement with Katherine worked. I slept with other women. That’s it.”