Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
But I can’t turn toward her. Not yet.
“I trust you,” she says. “And you can trust me.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and hold my breath as the lump in my throat thickens.
“I trust that you love me.” She touches her palm to my cheek.
I grab it, holding it tightly as a sob rips from my chest.
“And you can trust me when I say you don’t have to cut yourself open and bleed for me. I will love your scars the way you have loved mine.”
My knees buckle, and I fall to them, hugging her waist while I cry more than I have ever cried in my life. Tears for the three-year-old boy whose mom abandoned him and every single moment that left one of those scars.
“Oh god …” I sob, my entire body shaking because I’ve never felt emotion like this—bone-deep.
I didn’t find June, Rupert, or Callie. Through them, I’ve found myself.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Flynn
“There she is.” June slides open a glass door that’s a whole wall. I’ve never seen anything like it. We step onto a covered terrace filled with furniture and an outdoor fireplace. A swimming pool with fountains and a diving board lie just beyond the terrace.
A blond and silver-haired woman in a white bikini and a long, sheer black cover-up eyes us from a round chair that’s the size of a small bed. “Zoya,” she says with a smirk.
“Grandma, I’d like you to meet Flynn.”
She sits up, sliding her legs off the side of the white cushion and offers her hand. “I’m Juni, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” She winks at June.
I shake her hand. It’s a little cold. “Nice to meet you. June has said a lot of nice things about you.”
“June?”
June clears her throat, pulling me to sit beside her on the sectional. “When I moved to Minneapolis, I chose a different first name.”
Juni narrows her blue eyes. “Zoya is a beautiful name.”
June nods. “It is, but it’s not common, and I wasn’t looking for recognition. So I thought about my favorite grandma and chose a variation of her name.”
Juni eats up every word, clearly taken with her granddaughter. “I’m flattered. But you’re home now, so Flynn should call you Zoya.” Juni stands.
“What do you need,” Zoya asks, standing too.
“The restroom, dear. I think I can do it on my own.”
Zoya looks at me, and I return a tight grin like we’re in trouble. She sits back down, leaning into me as I put my arm around her, kissing the top of her head.
“I love you so much,” I murmur.
She reaches for my hand wrapped over her shoulder, interlacing our fingers. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to my grandma or how I’m going to handle the ups and downs. But I need you with me. And when the time comes, you’ll wonder things like … should I ask this woman to marry me. And the answer is yes. Okay?”
When I don’t answer, she shifts her body, sliding her leg over my lap to face me.
“You want to marry me?” I probably look as confused as I sound.
“Eventually.” She leans forward, resting her forehead against mine. “Do you want to marry me … eventually? A house with a big garage for cars that you’ll work on. A room on the second floor with a balcony where I’ll play my cello. And kids. We’ll have two kids. Maybe three. And you’ll teach them to play the kazoo.”
I laugh and so does she. Everything inside still feels raw. I don’t know what to do with this new kind of vulnerability. So I lean into it. I trust her.
“I mean,” she shrugs, brushing her nose against mine, “if I’m your whole world, it would be weird for you to marry someone else. Right?”
I frame her face and kiss her.
A wife?
House?
Kids?
And a kazoo?
“I would have thought you two would have gotten your fill after the concert,” Juni says.
Zoya grins, sliding off my lap and rubbing her lips together.
“Ahh … young love,” Juni says, sitting in her mammoth chair. “I remember when I met Zach. We couldn’t get enough of each other. Every touch and every look was foreplay. A slow dance to the closest place to rip off our clothes and go at it like rabbits.”
“Grandma!” Zoya giggles, cheeks stained red.
“So how long are you staying, Flynn?”
I look at Zoya. She squeezes my hand.
“As long as Zoya will be here.”
“So until I kick the bucket?”
Zoya stiffens.
“Well, if I find a good job, we might continue living here after you kick it.”
“Flynn!” Zoya smacks a hand over her mouth, eyes wide, flitting between me and her grandma.
Juni throws her head back in a belly laugh. “I like this one, Zoya.”
“Ya know,” I say, “I’m kind of an expert at keeping people alive. I’m a professional muse.”