Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
When we arrive at the restaurant, we’re shown to our table immediately. I have a seat and Killian sits across from me. He orders us a bottle of wine. Once the waiter leaves, he turns toward me. “What’s going on?” he asks, getting straight to the point.
“Nothing,” I say, already knowing he’s not going to accept my answer but not knowing what else to say.
“Talk to me, please.”
I hate that I’m ruining our date. Killian deserves better than this. Knowing he’ll need some type of explanation from me, I go with a half-truth. “I don’t like that you spent a lot of money on me,” I admit. “It’s bad enough you’re paying to take me out.”
Killian frowns. “I’m not paying to take you out.”
“Yes, you are. You’re on the schedule for tonight. If you weren’t, I would be on a date with another guy.” Killian flinches at my words.
“I’m sorry,” I add, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just hate that you’re wasting your money on me.”
“Let’s just enjoy our night, okay?” He takes my hand in his. “The reasons we’re here together don’t matter. The only thing that matters is that on Valentine’s Day I’m out to dinner with the most beautiful woman in New York.”
“Just New York, huh?” I joke.
Killian laughs. “I was trying to be romantic without sounding too over the top.”
“Ah… okay, then you nailed it. Just the perfect amount of romantic.”
The waiter brings us over our drinks. We order our food and then we’re left alone again.
“I worked on some ideas for your condo today,” I tell him. “Want to see?”
“I want to say no because we shouldn’t be discussing work at dinner, but something tells me you’re going to show me anyway.”
“I am.” I laugh, grabbing my purse, which is draped over the back of my chair, to pull out my phone. My purse strap gets stuck on the ear of the chair and then falls to the ground—several items falling out. Killian jumps into action, helping me pick up everything that rolled every which way. Luckily, we’re seated in the back of the restaurant, away from other people.
“What’s this?” Killian asks, holding up the wrapped gift.
“Nothing.” I try to grab it from him, but he moves it out of my reach at the last second.
“Is it for me?” He grins like a little boy.
“It was, but I’m not giving it to you anymore.” I try to reach for it again, but Killian takes it with him back to his seat.
“You bought me something for Valentine’s Day?” His face is lit up like a damn Christmas tree as he shakes it like one does with their gifts on Christmas morning. Boy, is he about to be disappointed.
“It’s nothing much,” I tell him.
“I bought you something too.” He pulls a small box out of his pocket and sets it on the table. Of course he bought me jewelry.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” I nod toward the imposing item now sitting on the table between us.
“Stop saying that. Open it.”
Reluctantly, I pick up the box and open the lid. Inside is a white gold—maybe platinum—necklace. The chain itself is delicate. In the center of the necklace is a charm in the shape of a heart with a crack going down the middle, accented with tiny diamonds. It’s beautiful, but I’m confused as to why he bought me a broken heart. I lift the necklace out of the box.
“Turn it over,” Killian murmurs, so I do. And engraved on the back is a quote, that if I wasn’t already sitting, would have me falling to my knees.
She made broken look beautiful and strong look invincible.
“Killian,” I whisper, my throat clogged with heavy emotion.
“Everybody is broken, Giselle,” he says, “but not everybody handles it with such strength and beauty.” He stands and comes around behind me, taking the necklace from my hand and placing it around my neck.
Now that I’ve seen what he’s given me, I’m especially terrified of him seeing my gift. I can’t even imagine how much this cost him.
“Thank you,” I say. “It’s beautiful and perfect.” I eye my gift in his hand. “Is there any way I can convince you not to open your gift?”
“What? Why?” Killian asks, confused.
“Well, for one, it probably cost less than the box this necklace came in.” I laugh humorlessly through my tears.
“I don’t give a fuck how much your gift cost,” Killian says seriously. “You should know me better than that.”
“No, I know. It’s just that you spent so much money on me, and…” I let out a deep sigh of defeat. “Well, whatever. Just open it. Let’s get this over with.”
Killian eyes me curiously then proceeds to open his gift. He opens the flat box and inside is a book.
“It’s a coffee table book.” A lot of clients like to have one on their coffee table. It makes for a pretty center piece. They’re usually of something they enjoy, like architecture or art. The one Killian is holding is of him—of us. I had several photos printed that we’ve taken on our phones over the last couple weeks. I also had Nick and Olivia send over some they had of him. There are some from the games he’s played. One from the Super Bowl he won last year. They’re all in dated order. The last image is of us. I wrote a note on that one: Thank you for being broken and lonely with me.