Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
He nodded.
“I know an actor has to go out and promote their movies, do the talk-show circuit and all that. I get it. And yours is not a life that lends itself to having a home and—”
“But it could,” he said, and I heard the urgency in his voice, his desire for me to hear him. “If you were there. If you were the one. It could.”
The way he was looking at me, like I could decide his whole life right then and there, it was a lot to agree with, but I was more than willing to jump into the deep end with this man.
“Cooper?”
“We’ll try. I want to try.”
One moment he was searching my face, the next he lunged at me, catching me in his strong arms, clutching me tight.
“Don’t give up at the first sign of trouble,” he whispered fiercely. “Promise me.”
“I won’t. That’s not me. You’ll see,” I said, easing away from him, spitting in my hand and holding it out to him. “I promise you.”
His mouth fell open.
I pressed my lips together really tight so I would not laugh.
“What the hell is that?” He sounded absolutely appalled.
“You gotta shake on it.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” he assured me.
“You’ve had your tongue in my mouth, but spit on my palm is gross?”
“Yes. Utterly disgusting.”
“I don’t care. Shake.”
“I really don’t think this is necessary for—”
“Now!” I yelled at him.
He spit into his hand, barely, and then we shook and I made sure to squeeze his hand so he could feel how slimy my palm was.
“This is worse than I thought.”
“Would you rather we sealed it in blood?”
“Who are you?”
I leaned in then, and he cupped my cheek with his non-saliva-smeared hand before he kissed me.
“You are so weird,” he murmured between kisses.
I chuckled, and he sighed deeply.
“Do you wanna wash your hands?”
“Yes, please,” he snapped.
We found a bathroom in the lobby, washed up, borrowed a golf umbrella from the concierge, who had a lot of them lined up ready to go in front of her counter, and headed out to find wherever it was the bride and groom had gone to have lunch.
As we walked along the sidewalk, skirting puddles, dodging other pedestrians, and bracing in the wind, Ash grumbled, “It’s so much colder here than I expected. What is it, like, twenty?”
I scoffed. “Oh, baby, you are not gonna make it in Chicago.”
“Already? You decided that so quickly?”
“I suspect seasons are not your idea of fun.”
“That’s not true. It gets very brisk in LA.”
“Does it? Really?” I baited him.
“Listen—”
“When the wind comes off Lake Michigan in January, you’ll die,” I said flatly. “You’ll just fall over and die.”
“I will not. I’ve been to Reykjavík.”
“And how much time did you spend outside in Reykjavík?”
He was quiet. “Let me think.”
I smiled at him. “We’ll get you a really good coat.”
“Or you could just, you know, get closer to me.”
When I put my arm around him, I got a rumble of pleasure. “You see? This is better already. I can do Chicago easily.”
He would pass out in the snow.
NINE
The bride and groom were not hard to find. They were a block down at the Frenchman’s Daughter, a gastropub that served, the sign boasted, amazing food and drink. The entrance was several steps above street level, and the hostess who greeted us explained that back in the day, the roads would flood all the time, so all the businesses downtown had steps that led up from the street.
“Food and history,” Ash said, smiling at her. “I love this.”
The wedding party was excited to finally get to meet and spend time with Ash. He wanted me to sit with him between Bitsy and Orson, but I wasn’t about to do that. Bitsy’s best friend, Charlene, the maid of honor, said I could have her lap, and the slow wink was adorable, but I wasn’t doing that either.
Sienna motioned to me. “Cooper, sit here by me.”
She was on the side of the picnic-style table close to the fireplace, next to another blonde who could have modeled right along with her. She took hold of my wrist and smiled up at me, seeming very pleased to see me. I slid onto the bench beside her, and she beamed at me, leaning in close for a moment before straightening up. Honestly, she really was lovely.
“Cooper, what can we get you to drink?”
“What did you guys get?”
“A pitcher of white sangria,” she said excitedly.
“Sounds great.”
“You see,” the woman beside Sienna said, leaning around her to offer me her hand. “Gay men don’t worry that what they drink will somehow emasculate them. I love that.”
“And you are?”
“I’m Jacqueline, but call me Jackie. It’s lovely to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s all mine,” I assured her, smiling, taking her perfectly manicured hand in mine.
“So gorgeous,” she said to Sienna.
“And funny, and kind,” Sienna replied, putting her arm around my shoulders. “I knew we were going to be a bonded pair the moment we met.”