Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“I want you here, now. I don’t care about before.”
“Why do you want me?”
I smirk, cutting into my steak.
“And what’s that smile about?”
“It sounds like a trick question.”
“I think it’s a fair question. I mean, it was fast. I’ve had years to think about our first kiss. Like it or not, it’s the truth.” She gestures with her hand as if to cut off anything I might say, a confident grin on her face. “But with you…”
“I don’t know.” I bite down on a chunk of bloody steak, looking at the city.
“So romantic,” she teases.
I smile over at her. “It’s you, Sophie. I can’t explain it. I just know I want you. All these years, not dating…”
“Wait, wait,” she says. “Don’t skip past that. How many years without dating?”
I shrug. “Five, six, seven, something like that. I was never much of a dater before, anyway. Work’s been so busy, and honestly, nobody has interested me. Nobody ever has. I’ve dated but never felt like this, how I do with you. With you, I didn’t have to think. I just know. It’s like the color of grass. It’s like breathing air. It just is.”
She blinks, her eyes glistening. “Okay, that was romantic.”
“It’s the truth,” I tell her, shrugging. “That’s what makes this so messed up. This feeling could only be about you, nobody else.”
“If you’re a player, that’s one hell of a line.”
I grab her hand and hold it tightly. Briefly, an image thumps right into my chest hard—my woman, a ring on her finger, glistening just like her eyes are right now. “I mean it,” I growl. “I don’t want anybody else.”
She leans down, kisses my hand, and looks at me with emotion. “I feel the same. I promise.”
We go on eating. It’s like the final supper, the last chance we have to date, to be together, before we tell Paul the truth and explode his world.
“What does Tyrone think about my stunt?” she asks after a minute or so.
I spoke to Tyrone before arranging the date out here. “He thinks it could go our way. We make a good team, apparently. I thought it might hurt me since I was basically on tape caving to blackmail.”
She must be able to tell how hard I’m being on myself. She touches my hand. Her look of support is more invigorating than any drug could ever be. “You only did that for me. For us. For Paul.”
“So far, nobody has noticed to care enough,” I go on. “You’re stealing the show. This could be a good way to kick-start your film career.”
She looks down at her plate, sighing.
“What’s wrong with that?” I ask. “Use your viral moment. Maybe create some social media channels. Ride the wave.”
“Wouldn’t that be a bit… I don’t know, obvious?”
“Obvious?” I say. “What does that even mean?”
She shakes her head and bites her lip. We’re supposed to be eating dinner, but she’s filling my mind with ideas to eat something else. “It’s something one of my professors says, but she can be a bit pretentious. She’d probably give me crap if I did that.”
“My business professor told me dropping out would be the worst thing I ever did,” I say. “He said every successful outdoor company that would exist always existed. Sometimes, you have to listen to you.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” she murmurs, “but I’d only do it when I had something worth showing. It’s not like I’ve got any feature films yet or even short films. Maybe this project about Mom and Dad, but it’s so personal. I’m not sure Paul would want it out there.”
“It’s your choice,” I tell her. “If not, you’ll always have a place with Free Everywhere.”
She flinches, and then I remember why. I’m a jackass. It’s what Paul said about how she wants to earn her place.
“If your work is good enough,” I add.
“Really?” she says.
“Honestly, Sophie, Paul told me how much it means to you to earn your spot. So if it means firing your ass, yes, really.”
She laughs. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“I wish everybody I fired had that attitude,” I say.
“It must be hard,” she says quietly, “having to fire people and having so much responsibility. Is it?”
“Hard to complain when you’ve got a bank account like mine,” I reply.
“You said that in an interview once. The journalist asked basically the same question I just did. You made light of it, like you did just now, but I could see there was more there. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Maybe you are,” I say, “but it’s not right for a man in my position to complain.”
“With me, though, you can be honest, always.”
I look into her accepting eyes. She’s everything I never had the imagination to dream of. In that gray, dreary world, I never could’ve envisioned so much light.