Only One Night (Only One #3) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Only One Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
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Chapter 22

Evelyn

“This is lovely,” my mother says from in front of me as we have dinner together. “Spending the whole day with you and now dinner and a movie.”

I smile at her. For the whole day, we walked around the shopping mall, got manicures and pedicures, then decided to see the new romantic comedy and then get dinner. “I will admit,” I say, “that this is one of the things I missed about being home.” I grab my glass of wine as she laughs.

“One of the things?” She tilts her head, just looking at me. “Well, as much as I hate why you had to come home.” My mother was the one who flew out and helped me pack up and move. She didn’t say anything mean or that she knew it was coming. She just did what was best for me. “I’m happy you are here.”

I look down at my phone that hasn’t buzzed since I spoke to him, and it concerns me how much I’m bothered by it. “So tell me what’s on your mind.” I look up at her. “Something is going on. You’ve been quiet of sorts.”

I think about how to answer this question because the last thing I want is for my mother or anyone in my family to be disappointed in me. “I met someone,” I say, my heart beating in my chest at the same time as my stomach falls.

Her eyes go wide, and the smile fills her face. “I had a feeling it had to do with a man. Is it the one who called you before?”

I look at her, and my mouth opens. “You eavesdropped.” I tried really hard to lower my voice as much as I could, and I thought with the jets of the water and the vibration of the chair, she wouldn’t be able to hear me well.

“You were right next to me.” She pushes her hair over her shoulder. “How was I not supposed to hear?” She rolls her eyes, and I laugh. “Now tell me all about him. Where did you meet him?”

“I met him at the bachelorette party,” I say, and I leave out the fact that I had a one-night stand. “Then I saw him again.” I stop talking. “I ran into him at a restaurant.”

She puts her hands together. “Do you like him?”

I swallow and have to take a sip of my water before I answer this. “I do,” I say, my palms getting sweaty. “A lot. More than I should.”

“Oh, don’t say that.” She swats her hand in the air. “I knew five minutes after meeting your father that he was the one for me. From the minute I met him at that house party from across the room, I knew I had to meet him.”

“We had a connection, that is for sure,” I say, “but it’s a bit complicated on his end.” That’s all I will say about it because I get a sick feeling in my stomach when I think about it.

“What does that mean? Complicated on his end?” she asks, and I know she would have.

“He is just going through things with . . .” I stop talking, trying to come up with the words. “I like him, Mom,” I say, my voice going low. “Like he comes over, and I wait for him. I am anxiously waiting for him. I want to talk to him all the time.”

“That is usually a good thing,” she tells me.

“I feel like I’ve known him forever,” I finally say. “And it’s so dumb because I haven’t. But I don’t know how to explain it.”

“He settles you,” she tells me, and I tilt my head. “Like pieces to a puzzle, Evelyn. You keep searching for that piece of the puzzle that is missing. The piece that makes it complete.” I take the last sip of my wine. “Why does it sound like you’re fighting this?” I want to tell her it’s because I know deep down I can’t accept the fact he’s married. Deep down, it kills me that he goes home to her. Even if he tells me that she doesn’t come between us, it’s always in the back of my mind.

“I’m just scared,” I say, and she smiles now, looking at me.

“Love is scary, Evelyn. It’s easy when it comes, but it’s scary when you fight for it.” She takes the last sip of her water, and the waiter comes over and brings us the dessert menu.

My mother doesn’t bring it up again. She knows me and knows that I have to play it out in my head. When I drop her off at home, she begs me to come over tomorrow for lunch and will not take no for an answer.

I walk into my house after nine with my hands full of bags. Things I really don’t need but bought anyway. I take my phone with me when I unload everything, and when I slip into the bath, I’m on edge, and I have no idea why. None whatsoever.


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