Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
“You’re not eighteen anymore,” she says. “You’re smarter. You’re more experienced. And you know when to trust your heart and when to trust your gut.”
“Do I?” I ask. I’m not so sure.
“You do. You’re talking about two instances where someone has used you in over a decade. But people are actually using you all the time and, importantly, vice versa.”
“That’s not true,” I say. When did Jules get so cynical?
“What about real estate agents? They use you. You think they’d be as nice to you if you weren’t the biggest developer in New York City? Of course not. But you need them, too. It’s just business. It’s a mutually predatory relationship. It’s a trade. Just like us.”
“Like us?”
“I said yes to being your fiancée because you said I could manage The Mayfair. It’s… it was business.”
“And now? You move out tomorrow and that’s it?”
She holds my gaze.
“That’s the end of our arrangement,” she says.
What if I want a new arrangement?
“Right.” I can’t think of anything else to say. I like Jules. Really like her. And I don’t think what we have together is any kind of trade. We’re not using each other. Are we? Is she? I know she wants the permanent job at the hotel. But that’s not why we’re sleeping together, is it?
I shake my head. That can’t be it, or she wouldn’t be moving out. She’d be trying to stay.
One thing I know for certain is that being with Jules doesn’t feel like being with Caroline or Nadia. Jules feels like she fits with me in a way I knew I didn’t with Caroline—or maybe it was all too long ago to remember. Now, with the awards ceremony behind me, memories of me and Caroline are fading. The hatred and disgust I have for her and myself for falling for her seem further away, like they were part of another life. Another lifetime.
I’m more focused on the we of me and Jules, and why she’s so keen to move out. Doesn’t she want to stay?
“Tonight is the end of our business arrangement,” I say. “Tomorrow is a fresh start.”
She’s staring straight ahead, her expression closed to me. I want to know what she’s thinking.
“Let’s have lunch tomorrow. Talk about some stuff.” I need tonight to sort things out in my brain. Asking Jules to stay living in my guest room doesn’t seem like the right thing to do, but if I ask her to share the master? I’m not sure either of us is ready for that.
“I can’t tomorrow. I’m meeting my dad for coffee and then he’s coming to meet you, remember? I figure I can pretty much drop him off at your door. At least that way I know he’ll show.”
She smiles at me and slides her hand into mine.
“Dinner, then?” I ask. “Why don’t you delay your move-out a couple days? We can have dinner.” We need to talk—I’m just not quite sure what about yet. I don’t want to give her up simply because our fake engagement is over. I really like her.
She looks at me, her eyes narrowing. “The weekend?”
“It makes more sense.”
She sighs as if the thought of dinner with me is a chore. “I suppose.” She says the words carefully, like she’s arranging them between shards of broken glass. If I didn’t know her better, I would say she just wants to move out and get on with her life. But I do know her better. Maybe neither of us knows where to go from here. All I’m sure of is that I want to figure it out.
“Hey, careful. Don’t get overly excited at the prospect of dinner with me.”
She laughs. “I am excited. This is my excited face.”
I grin at her, relief shuddering through me at the familiar warmth in her tone. “You’re beautiful.”
“And excited.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Jules
I don’t know if it’s because of the fresh, crisp air of this October day, but there’s a lift in my chest and I can’t stop smiling. I feel like I’m about to go on vacation or something. I’ve spent the morning trying not to replay my conversation with Leo last night. He wants to have dinner. To talk. And I want that too. I like the guy. I more than like him. He’s not the man I thought he was when I met him. He’s a flirt for sure. And he has women asking for his number all the time, I have no doubt. But I don’t think he’s some kind of unreliable, unfaithful womanizer. He’s not the player I thought he was. It’s early between us, but we share an undeniable chemistry in and out of the bedroom.
Maybe he was right the first time we met. Maybe he is my destiny.
I arrive at the coffee shop where I’m meeting my dad and order. It’s just before twelve, so there’s no line. I’d like to order for him too, but I wouldn’t be able to recite his coffee order for a million dollars.