Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Geocaching? In the rain?”
“I presume it occurs outside?”
“Yep,” he replied. “How about I pick you up since the warden isn’t home to criticize us?”
“Us?” I snorted. “Speak for yourself, Your Honorable Holiness.”
“Ha.” His dry humor was in full effect. “But seriously. We should practice for the charity auction at the DuValls this weekend.”
“Mm-hmm. Bye, Washington.” At that name, the DuValls, our banter crashed and burned.
“We should get used to each other’s snores for the Shreveport event. It’s too far to drive back the same day,” he said, knowing full well that I’d never step foot on another plane.
“We can take turns driving, Wash. Good night.”
The second I hung up, I dialed Texas. The call went to voicemail mid-ring. Oh, no, he didn’t.
Shoving a hand through my hair, I chewed him out like any big sister would. “Now, I know you didn’t press ignore, Texas! Even when ghosting your brothers, you know to answer me.” Then, like any law-abiding citizen fluent in guilt-tripping a person, I said, “Remember when you showed up at me and Wash’s studio apartment in San Jose? Who let you stay?”
Saturday evening I looked too good. My blunt bangs had clocked out and left luxurious baby hairs in charge. Since baby hairs loved them some waves, I pulled out the titanium iron and got to curling like I was about to walk in slow motion past all my enemies. Even Chantell from third grade. But tell me why, a few minutes later, I was a cat chasing its tail, reaching for the zipper of the red velvet dress Washington had bought me. That reminded me. If I could weasel the receipt out of him, I’d return it and use some of the money to help me pay my sister rent in April.
As my body kept spinning around the wood floors, I groaned. Useless. How did I live without my husband for a year? I continued working the zipper, and my mind wandered to another time and another dress.
“Need help, chère?” Washington’s voice had been teasing, low, and tinged with an apology. It was Valentine’s Day, and he’d been late. Court had run long. He’d been working a case with $1.2 billion on the table.
Yeah, I had an attitude. Granted, we’d gone from ramen to him working at one of the most prestigious corporate law firms in Louisiana. Before he interviewed for the job, he’d warned me it had the potential to destroy relationships. But his eyes had burned with ambition. I needed to say yes. He’d wanted that. And now we’d gotten our first taste of good money.
Washington stepped closer, brushing the hair away from my neck. “Forgive me, chère.”
With torturously gentle intent, his lips had pressed against the nape of my neck, making me ache for the touch that would follow the rhythm of my heartbeat. His lips dropped to my collarbone, and I nearly fainted. The scent of him wrapped around me like a vice, mixing with the faint trace of roses.
By the time he’d captured my mouth with his, I no longer had any control. He was holding me up. I was melting. Liquid beneath wherever his hands touched.
“We good now?” he’d murmured, his lips grazing mine, nipping and kissing as he’d reached toward the zipper behind my back. Funny how he could have my mind and heart wrapped around him. The zipper crept tantalizingly slow up my spine. My lips zipped shut as well, as temptation made it hard to utter a single word.
“Okay, so we ain’t good.” His voice came out a laugh, and his mouth dropped on mine in a featherlight kiss. “You know my next step is to beg for forgiveness, Maddy. But you were so angry about missing dinner. Shall I get on my knees and beg forgiveness now? Or after we return from Tableau?”
“Yes …” I replied.
“Which is it?” he asked, slowly undoing the zipper again as if to punish me for not having a confident reply. The titillating sound echoed with my heartbeat. My mind swirled with everything I couldn’t say. How I forgave him. Always would. And how his kisses had given me life.
Washington pressed his forehead against mine while sliding his fingertips over my shoulders to remove the dress. “Better?” he asked, lips brushing against mine, a ghost of a kiss that left me aching.
I nodded, still unable to speak, my body humming from the closeness, the intimacy. Our position. Me naked and him fully clothed in a suit that cost more than the rent we paid after we married during my second year in college. And then we’d loved each other. We didn’t end up tasting Tableau until our first Valentine’s post-baby.
But eventually, despite the money, corporate law was killing us. Killing me.
I’d delayed my dream of owning a glassblowing storefront for years and worked out of our home so he could fulfill his. When career burnout in corporate law had finally hit, Washington needed time in the juvenile court field. Then we’d had Elijah, so I postponed my dream a little longer and continued creating out of my small workshop at home. When Eli began transitional kinder … I got my dream, then came the crash. I had only owned my shop for less than a year.