Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 97574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
They laugh.
I pull her into a sweet kiss.
Her hand goes to the back of my head. She holds my mouth against hers, kissing me like my lips are oxygen.
Real or pretend?
Right now, I don't care.
I need her.
That's real.
That's as real as anything.
After we break for air, I turn to my brother and his girlfriend.
She holds up her drink to toast. "To the rest of your life together."
Ian follows. "To happily ever after."
Indigo picks up her drink. I do the same.
We tap glasses in the middle of the table.
"Now," Eve settles into her seat, "tell me how it happened. How you met again. Tell me everything."
"Everything covers a lot," Indigo says.
"Only the dirty parts then," Ian offers.
"Don't think I won't," Indigo says.
He raises a brow, daring her.
"That is why you agreed, isn't it?" I ask. "To see me after three years. It was because you wanted to fuck me."
"That's why you called." She looks into my eyes. It's honest. Asking for honesty in return. "Isn't it?"
"I wanted to know you were okay," I say.
"And you wanted to fuck me," she says.
"And I wanted to fuck you."
She smiles. "Me too." She taps her glass against mine. Turns to my family. "Does that cover it?"
They trade a holy shit look.
But Eve still transitions seamlessly. She asks Indigo about her life. Her interests. Her family.
They get on like a house on fire.
They're both devoted to their younger sisters.
They both know the pain of serving drinks to pissed arseholes.
They trade tips on the best tattoo artists in the city. And the best venues.
Then they're talking about music. First, what they both love. Then what they don't. The state of music today. Some pop star with wild hair.
They talk all through dinner. Until Eve excuses herself to use the restroom. And like in an old movie, Indigo does the same.
It leaves me and my brother alone.
He looks around the restaurant. Looks at me. "It is fast."
"I know."
"Is she pregnant?"
"She had three drinks."
"I have to ask."
"You don't have to," I say. "You could exercise a little self-control."
"I could?" He chuckles. "I didn't realize." He lowers his voice. "Are you happy?"
"I am."
"And you're sure?"
I nod.
"Then I'm happy for you, Ty. You deserve it."
My chest warms. "Thank you."
"Is it just about the sex?" His voice gets playful.
"Of course. I have to close the deal before she gets tired of me," I say.
He smiles, but there's a sadness to it.
Like he thinks I mean it.
Maybe I do.
That is why I called.
That is why she came.
That is why she's here.
Sex and money.
There are worse reasons to marry.
Still, I can't shake the look in his eyes.
The concerned brother. Worried, not because he doesn't believe me, but because he does.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ty
After chocolate cake and champagne, we walk Eve and Ian home—their place is only a few blocks away. Then we head toward my flat.
"Warn me next time we're walking." Indigo slips her clutch into the front pocket of my suit jacket.
"Don't New Yorkers walk everywhere?"
"Usually." She taps the pointy toe of her heels against the toe of my dress shoes. "But these aren't walking shoes."
"We're in the Financial District."
"And?"
"I see women in these shoes every day."
"If you wanted a woman who walks in designer heels, you should have proposed to one of them." She smiles, teasing, tipsy. Or maybe all the way to pissed.
"I'll carry you."
"How?" She slides her hand around my waist. Motions toward the quiet street.
I walk with her. "In my arms. Like a bride over the threshold."
"For ten blocks?"
"You don't think I can?"
"It's a long way," she says.
"Would you prefer a piggyback ride?"
A laugh falls from her lips. "You wouldn't."
"I would."
She shakes her head no way.
I nod yes way.
"Really?"
"Really."
"Okay." She stops. Turns to me. "Let's go."
"You want a piggyback ride?"
"Mm-hmm." She smiles. "As long as it won't wear you out."
"Excuse me?"
"I wouldn't want you to be too tired to fuck me properly."
"Is that a dare?"
She shrugs, playing coy.
"You push my buttons on purpose."
"You like when I push your buttons on purpose." She presses her hand to my chest. "You're an old man. You might have back issues."
"I'm an old man?"
She nods.
"I will throw you over my shoulder."
"Like a caveman?" Her eyes light up.
"Yes. But not here."
She pouts.
"Come on." I turn my back to her. Bend enough to give her a lift. "Hands here." I tap my shoulder.
"Okay." She slides her arms around my chest.
I slip my arms between her thighs. "On three."
"One, two, three—" She squeals as I rise. "Oh my god."
"You didn't think I would?"
"I have to stay like this for ten blocks?"
"Or admit you were full of shite."
"I was not." Her fingers dig into my shirt. "But I'm worried about my shoes."
"What about them?"
"If they fall off. They're expensive. The seven-hundred-dollar price tag is probably nothing to you, but I don't like to waste."
"You don't like them?"
"I like them."