Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Crossing my arms, I sank back into the seat. “I’m probably insane for that.”
“I agree.”
I shook my head. “I love how you deflect whenever you’re asked something serious.”
He sighed. “I’m still unsure about things. I may never feel truly ready. What I need to decide is whether I want to go through with it despite that.”
“I hear you…” I looked out the window at some cattle grazing in the distance. “Well, no pressure from me. I just wanted some clue as to what we’re doing. The offer will stand, even if it’s months from now.”
He arched his brow. “That’s not really true, though, is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re at a point right now where you can carry the baby, but if even one thing changes, that won’t be the case.”
“Like what would change?”
“If you met someone and he didn’t like the idea—something like that.”
“Well, he’d have to accept it, if it was what I wanted.”
“I wouldn’t easily accept my woman carrying someone else’s child.”
“Even if it was for a good cause?”
He scratched his chin. “No, probably not.”
“Well, my track record is such that I don’t have to worry about meeting Mr. Right anytime soon.” Instead, I’ll just sit here crushing on Mr. Not A Chance in Hell.
CHAPTER 8
* * *
Abby
Track 8: “When Will I See You Again” by Three Degrees
After driving back from Brighton House, we pulled up to the inn and found Lavinia waiting outside for us. She wore a purple hat adorned with a flower and a long, crushed-velvet black coat.
“Oh my God. Lavinia’s so cute. Does she always get all dressed up and wait outside like that?”
“Patience is not her strong point.” Sig chuckled.
I rolled down my window, and she stuck her head in. “Hello, loves. I figured I’d get some fresh air while I waited for you to come back.”
“Just admit you have ants in your pants,” he teased.
“You’re coming with us, Sigmund, yes?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I wasn’t planning on it. I need to get back to London.”
I was bummed to hear that.
Lavinia stuck her head farther into the vehicle. “You must come. You know I can never finish my fish and chips. It doesn’t heat up the same way at home and makes the whole house smell like fish. I need you around to clean my plate.”
“You want me to join you for dinner because I’m your human waste disposal…”
“Come on,” I urged. “You need to eat anyway, right?”
Sig exhaled. “Fine.”
It was a nice night, so Sig parked, and the three of us walked down to the pub—the only restaurant within walking distance of Lavinia’s house. Despite her frail appearance, Lavinia did pretty well walking the few blocks there, albeit at a slow pace.
McPhee’s Pub, like many of the buildings in Westfordshire, had a stone exterior. It was an old building, and the inside featured a dark ambience, with cherry-wood booths and small jarred candles set out on the tables. It had a very homey feel. There were lots of framed photos on the walls and various trinkets hung everywhere. It seemed like an extension of the inn.
A waitress came by and placed menus in front of us. “What do you fancy to drink?”
“I’ll have a water,” I told her.
“You said you’re limiting alcohol.” He raised his eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want to give you yet another reason to veto me.”
“That’s stupid.” He turned to the waitress. “Bring us each a pint of lager, please.”
Thank goodness. I could really use it tonight.
After she came back with our beers, I took a long, much-needed sip.
“They make their own beer. How do you like it?” Sig asked.
“It’s so good that you’re seeming nicer by the second.” I winked.
“Drink up, then.” He grinned.
I asked Lavinia to suggest something on the menu, and she insisted I get the fish and chips. Sig agreed, and the three of us all got the same thing.
As the waitress set the plate in front of me, I felt my eyes go wide. “This piece of fish is bigger than my forearm.”
“That’s why Sigmund always finishes my scraps.” Lavinia laughed.
“Well, Sig, you might have to finish me off, too.”
His eyes widened.
Oh goodness. I didn’t mean it to come out that way. “I mean finish my plate.” My face must have turned fifty shades of red.
He cleared his throat. “It’s what I’m here for, apparently.”
Things turned quiet for a bit as we dug into our food and I recovered from my embarrassment.
Lavinia turned to me with her mouth full. “Did you have a good time today at the Covington estate?”
I wiped my lips. “It was so amazing, Lavinia. An animal lover’s dream. Felicity and I really hit it off.”
“So glad you loved my girl,” she said. “Felicity is darling. And so are you.”
Lavinia and I did most of the chatting during dinner while Mr. Grumpypants stayed quiet. But at one point, I looked over at Sig to find his eyes fixed on me. He quickly looked down at his plate, but it was too late. I’d seen him staring. I didn’t know what to make of it. Usually I could sense whether or not someone liked me—not in a romantic sense, but in general. Not with him, though. So I wondered why he was observing me so intensely. The beer had given me just the right amount of buzz to not care at the moment, however.