Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Scott is good at rationalizing stuff like that.” I didn’t want to make excuses for him. “I’m going to talk to him. When I’m not so blindsided.”
“I want to talk to him right now. I want to pinch his arm superhard.” She paused. “Sorry. That was childish.”
“I think it’s warranted. If sleeping with your best friend’s sister, then chastising your best friend for sleeping with your sister, isn’t childish, I don’t know what to call it.” And I didn’t want to think about it. I wanted to enjoy my time with Charlotte.
She leaned against me, and I reclined, letting her nestle her head against my chest. “You’re really chill about this. About a lot of things.”
“I don’t find that getting apocalyptically upset about everything makes life all that much easier.” Some of my past partners had called it immaturity or apathy. But I couldn’t force myself to get worked up about things I couldn’t control in the moment, any more than someone with a bad temper could keep it down all the time.
“But buying the Rangers is?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Maybe last season. They’re going to win the Stanley Cup this year. I’ll get priced out.”
She pinched my arm. But not superhard.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
(Charlotte)
Poetic. Not realistic.
I looked over at the man asleep beside me, his words running laps in my head.
Words that he hadn’t even thought about. He’d tossed them off casually. Like it was common sense: no one would walk away from money, for love.
If he would walk away from his money for you, you’d think he was being ridiculous. I couldn’t argue with myself on that point. If he told me tomorrow that he’d given up everything to be with me, I’d tell him to enjoy the sidewalk, because I wasn’t about to sign up for a life of impulsive, reckless decisions.
At least, not coming from the side of this relationship who was supposed to be older and wiser. I was the one who was supposed to be impulsive and reckless.
I hugged my knees to my chest and looked around the dark bedroom, at the big, terrifying windows that showed a city of impossible humanity below. I was sitting in a literal ivory tower with a man who’d dismissed the idea of sacrificing money for love.
Weirdly, one of the things I liked about Matt was his ability to make a remark like that. He said things other people wouldn’t admit to. I never thought one of those things would be that he valued money over love.
Or maybe I was naive.
I’d never considered myself a romantic. If someone asked me three weeks ago, “Would you give up a billion dollars for love?” I would have laughed in their faces and asked for my check.
Now, I was in love. And I would give up everything for him.
And he didn’t feel that way about me.
Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe he wouldn’t feel that way about anyone.
Or he couldn’t.
The people that I’d met over the weekend had seemed like a whole different species. The lavish parties, the vast manor, all of it was impossibly bizarre to me. He hated it and wanted to be “normal.”
My vision blurred and I blinked back tears. This cavernous room with extra tall ceilings and a satellite view of Manhattan was his version of normal.
He rolled to his side, a dark curl falling over his forehead. He was so goddamn beautiful, my heart ached. But how long could he be mine? Would he run at the first sign that our relationship might ask for sacrifice?
So far, I’d done all the sacrificing. I had taken a leave from my brand-new job that I enjoyed. I’d run off for weeks, had barely spoken to my parents or friends aside from the occasional text. His life had fully consumed mine.
And maybe I would have been fine with that, if not for what he’d said tonight.
He opened one eye, and I jumped.
“I had the strangest feeling that someone was staring at me,” he said, his voice sleep-rough.
“Sorry. I couldn’t sleep.”
I couldn’t sleep because I was possibly hyper-fixating on a single thing that you said. A thing I can’t even ask you about and know the truth, because anyone would choose the answer that wouldn’t make them sound like a dick.
He blinked and yawned and rolled over to get his phone off the nightstand. “It’s four-thirty. My alarm is going to go off in a half hour.”
“I’m sorry.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Don’t apologize. This gives me an extra half hour with you.” He pushed himself up. “Unless you want to work out with me? My trainer is awesome, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind working with you too.”
“A five a.m. workout? Tempting, but I’ll pass.” My voice was light, but my heart was still heavy.
“Okay.” He grinned at me. “We can do some cardio here.”