Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
To stop from popping a blood vessel and grabbing Trent’s throat by the tenth course, I concentrated on my breathing, on the feeling of my clothes against my skin, and now, the sensations are like ten-inch fingernails raking a chalkboard.
Dinner has ended, and we’re in the parlor for a nightcap. The whiskey is taking the edge off.
“…I have to wear the cast all summer,” Collin prattles on about his broken leg. His crutches lean against the floral couch. He actually sprawls out across the entire couch like he’s in his own living room.
Claudia slips me looks like isn’t he uncouth?
I entertain her with ones back.
Phoebe and Jake snuggle close on a love seat, but not close enough to entice Trent to draw her away from his brother.
Trevor is here.
Playing violin in the corner with the quartet. It’s fine, I tell myself. It’s a good position for him to be in—harmless. No one will fuck with him. He’ll be fine.
I only briefly acknowledged him since Trent knows he’s my brother, but I worry if I act like I care, then Trent will want to bring him over for a drink. That’s not happening.
Claudia yawns. “I think it’s time for me to retire. I’ll see you all in the morning. Grey, dear, it’s been lovely.” She kisses both my cheeks.
“Same to you, Claudia.”
She brightens with faux sincerity. “Trent.” She gives him the same goodbye treatment. “You behave yourself.” Her smile eliminates even the semblance of a warning.
“I wouldn’t dare do anything less.” He grins.
She laughs. “Silly boys.” Her smile fades at Phoebe. “Goodnight, dear.” Then to her son, “Jacob. Be good. Tomorrow morning, we’ll all be together.” She actually hugs Jake. To her second born…she forgets he’s even there.
Claudia leaves the parlor.
Jordan and Nadia whisper-hiss under their breath.
“Oh shut it, Jordan,” Trent bemoans. “Go run after her and talk her ear off about some lame premiere no one wants to see.”
“Goodnight.” He stands in a huff, fixing his suit jacket. He catches Nadia’s hand and carts her out the door.
“Bye, Jordie Shore!” Collin calls out.
Oliver laughs.
“And then there were six,” I say into my whiskey, sitting in a club chair beside Trent.
He lights a cigar and puffs out smoke. “Past your bedtime, Jake?” he asks his brother. “This is when the children get tucked in.”
“Then you should’ve gone to bed hours ago,” Jake retorts.
“Oh, oh. He has a spine, ladies and gentlemen.” Trent snickers. “For most of my life, I thought you were all jellyfish.” He does a terrible impersonation of a jellyfish. He looks like he’s convulsing against the chair.
Phoebe is trying not to snort into a glass of brandy.
I’m trying not to smile at her. My collar isn’t bothering me to near madness. My watch doesn’t feel like seven tons bearing on my wrist. For this brief second, all I see…is her.
I’m struck by her. Classical music pours through the parlor and triggers my senses.
And when her eyes find mine and her movements slow, it’s like time reverses. Like we’re both being knocked so far back. I’m fifteen and falling in love under a sycamore tree in Virginia. Lightning bugs swarm us in the sticky summer night, and we’re practicing a waltz for a debutante ball. It’d be her second coming-out to high society. She’s pretending to be sixteen.
But we’re so young, and as she trips over my feet, I catch her around the hips, and she’s laughing off the clumsiness. A red flush stains her cheeks, and even in the night, I see her. I see how her eyes track over my features, how her breath hitches at the sight of me.
Again.
We keep going. We never stop. Not as sweat drips down our temples, as hot, heavy heat builds in our lungs, as our hands brush and skim, and our breath becomes arduous from more than the cadence of our steps. Then she trips again, and this time, I seize her from behind and yank her back into my chest.
Our bodies meld, and I hear her breath shallow. I feel her hands skating against my flexed biceps while my arms wrap around her waist. My lips brush over her neck, and her body lets out an uncontrolled, surprised shudder.
Then a flashlight glares at us. We squint, and I raise my hand to block the beam of light. It illuminates a glinting spiderweb—two inches from our faces.
Seeing the person behind the flashlight, we split apart. We’re about to go inside the mansion we’re staying at.
“You’re not done,” my father says. “Go again.”
She doesn’t want to argue with the godfather. I’m uncertain if he should see how much I love her. I’m concerned I can’t hide it right then.
We’re out there for two more hours.
It’s not enough for him.
We could go forever together. Does he know that? Does he know there’s no exhausting two people who can’t quit?