Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
That didn’t mean my body wasn’t aching for it, though.
“Did you happen to see Dom today?”
“Dom? No. Why?”
“He’s… missing. No one’s been able to get in touch with him since he left here last night.”
“What? Oh, my God. What can we do? Should we get changed and go—”
“Love that your first instinct is to try to find him yourself, but no. Remo is handling it right now. But if we don’t get in touch soon, I might have to go out and start looking. Not you, though. I want to make sure you’re safe.”
“Are you okay?” she asked, coming closer to put her hands on each of my arms.
“I know he’s probably out having the time of his life touring some woman’s bedsheets. But I don’t like it.”
“I’m sorry.” Her hands slid down, then around my waist, wrapping me up tight.
And, fuck, if a hug from her wasn’t exactly what I needed right then.
“I know it’s not the same kind of thing, but I was once rooming with another model and was losing my mind and calling the police because she hadn’t been home in three days.”
“What happened?”
“She met a photographer and went to Spain with him for a long weekend. God, I was so mad at her. So hopefully, Dom checks in and you can be pissed at him instead of worried.”
“Let’s hope,” I agreed, giving her body a squeeze as I leaned down and inhaled the sweet scent of her. “Want some wine? The food should be up soon.”
“We could have had leftovers,” she said, pulling back to roll her eyes at me. “But, yes, wine. And not one of those proper pours. Fill that glass up.”
She made her way over to the couch, sitting down and looking out at the view.
I filled the glasses and joined her, pulling her legs over my lap.
For a long couple of moments, we just sat there, sipping the wine and enjoying each other’s company.
“It’s been a day,” she declared, setting her mostly empty glass down on the coffee table.
“My day has been mostly uneventful until the last hour,” I said, getting a little laugh out of her.
“Distract me.”
“Any ideas?”
“Tell me something about you. Something real, personal. I feel like I know you, but I don’t know the details about you, if that makes sense.”
“I fucking hate olives. Which is interesting in an Italian family. I have terrible handwriting. And I like to watch cooking videos to unwind.”
“Do you know how to cook?”
“Yes. My ma made all of us learn, even though she is usually shoving food at us, so we don’t need to do it much. You?”
“Cook? No. I mean… no. I tried to learn when I was staying with my grandmother, but I could never imagine what things would taste like together, so I kept making weird combinations that nobody liked. Where do you live? Apartment, house?”
“Apartment right now. Got my eyes on the market,” I told her. I went ahead and left out that I’d only been looking since I came down to AC. “Figure I’ll know the right house when I see it.”
“What’s wrong with your apartment?”
“Nothing. But I want to raise a family in a house with a yard. What about you?”
“You know where I live.”
“I meant do you see yourselves with a house, yard, kids?”
“Oh, that. Well, I’d need a lot more stability than I have now. But I’ve done the apartment thing most of my life. A house would be nice. A little backyard with a hammock and flower garden.”
Her blue eyes went far away, like she was imagining it right then. Suddenly, my future house had a new requirement to go along with the chef’s kitchen, four bedrooms, and a basement that was (or could be) finished. A good set of trees for a hammock.
“And… yeah. Yeah, I think I want kids. I mean, a part of me is terrified I’d be a terrible mom. I didn’t have the most loving role model. But I’d love to carry on my grandmother’s legacy. And her eyes,” she said, rapidly blinking hers at me.
“They’re a really nice hand-me-down.”
“Do you want a million kids like your mom had?”
“I want kids. I figure I’m not gonna have any idea how many until I at least have one.”
“Don’t you have a bunch of nieces and nephews?”
“I do. But I can hand those back and get a good night of sleep.”
“That’s true. I’ve never really been around babies. My family was so small. And, well, modeling and lounge singing aren’t baby-friendly careers.”
“I’m always tripping over toddlers and trying to save my phone and keys from infants.”
“Your family is really close, huh?”
“Close as you can get. Think I’ve gotten twenty texts just today from various people keeping me updated on shit back home.”
“That’s really sweet.”
“I’m assuming you only had that when you were with your grandmother.”