Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
She gave the question some thought. “Honestly . . . I think I just want to decompress and read one of the books I bought. It’s been a long day.”
“I don’t see the harm in that.”
“Okay. Let me get comfortable first.”
She sauntered away, only to return about fifteen or so minutes later in a fresh set of pink pajamas with cupcakes on them. Her face was shinier, which meant she had probably washed it. Her locs were also now in a ponytail.
“Cute pajamas,” I said as she made her way to the paper bag full of books on the table. As she shuffled through it, I stared at her ass.
Did she take her panties off? Fuck me.
“What will you do?” she asked, carrying one of the books to the sofa. She curled up on one end while I cleared my throat and pretended I wasn’t just thinking about her with no panties on.
“I am going to have a drink.” I had requested that the hotel send up limes and tequila while we were out. I made my way to the minibar, grabbed a silver tequila, and carried it to the kitchen. I poured two glasses, mixed tequila with a splash of lime juice, and carried both toward her.
“For me?” She smiled, accepting the glass I offered. “Tequila is my favorite.”
“I know.”
She quirked a brow. “How do you know?”
“You were drinking it the night you had that date.”
“Oh—right. The date you so rudely interrupted. You know I will never let you live that down, right?”
Smiling, I walked away, but only to get a book out of the paper bag—one that I’d bought for myself. It was a self-help book on learning how to not give a fuck. According to Octavia, I needed to learn how to “chill out and let things be” sometimes. She swore reading this book would help me.
Returning to the sofa, I picked up her stretched-out legs and lifted them.
“Hey—” She started to protest, until I placed her legs on top of my lap and held on to one of her ankles. Her mouth clamped shut, and her eyes softened.
“Okay if I read too?” I asked.
She batted her lashes a few times, then fought a smile as she brought the rim of her glass tumbler to her lips. “Smooth move, Valdez.”
After a big sip, she placed the glass down on the coffee table, then settled into the sofa. It was cute watching her crack the book open with such a satisfied smile.
It was like reading brought her nothing but pure joy. I was not a big reader, but I did read a lot of parenting books, biographies, and sports articles. It was nice trying something new . . . with someone new.
A strange thought struck me. I realized I had never done this sort of thing with Eloise. We had never sat in peace and quiet, with nothing but the sound of turning pages and soft breaths.
Eloise was always active, always wanting to dance and sing and drink. She was full of energy and life, and I loved that about her because I was quiet and antisocial—she’d balanced us.
But this was nice too. I found myself mindlessly caressing the top of Octavia’s foot with the pad of my thumb. I studied her toenails, which were painted white. She had really cute toes.
Something Octavia had said earlier circled back in my mind. She’d mentioned how she saw the world through Aleesa’s eyes. Just like children, she enjoyed the simple things in life and cherished them. She was not a woman who asked for much. She simply used what she had and flipped it into something grand.
Hell, she had made something as simple as lounging on a sofa and reading a book feel wholesome and monumental. For what felt like the first time, I could see life through her lens. I could see that peace was what she truly craved in life and holding on to that was important to her.
When I realized I was stroking her skin, I turned my gaze to hers. She was already looking at me.
“What?” I asked.
“This feels very . . . intimate,” she murmured.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“I don’t know,” she replied in a soft voice. “Maybe not if I actually like it.” She studied my face for quite some time, then pulled her legs away so she could twist her body the other way and rest her head in my lap. I wrapped an arm over her as she exhaled and opened her book again to read.
“Javier?” she called after a few quiet minutes.
“¿Sí, amor?”
“Thank you for making me feel safe.” Her voice was thick and didn’t sound like it normally did.
Wait.
I looked down at her. “Octavia, are you okay?”
She remained quiet.
“Octavia, look at me.”
She shook her head.
“Please.”
Sniffling, she sat up and slid her gaze my way. Tears lined the rims of her eyes, and when she blinked, they all came streaming down.