Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“For sure. Otherwise the entire house smells like fart and dirty socks.”
Cash is a great guy, but when he’s home, the air quality drops at least three points. He also doesn’t believe in closing the bathroom door. And Skaggs leaves protein shakers in his gym bag until they ferment, which is fucking disgusting.
“It’s a miracle I’m still alive,” I lament as she continues perusing my things.
Nova laughs, delighted, brushing her fingers over the spines of a few books before glancing back toward the bed. “I kind of love that your bedroom is your safe zone.”
I shrug. “I have an office too, but never use it.”
She hums.
“Should we go sit and eat? I’m starving.”
Nova takes my hand and follows me to the two oversized chairs I have angled toward the window; a soft throw blanket tossed over the arm of one, the low round table between them is where I’ve already set the grazing board.
The windows overlook the backyard, soft pinpoints of light from the neighbor’s porch twinkling in the near distance.
She curls into the chair like she was designed to fit there. Legs tucked beneath her, shoulders relaxed, wine glass in hand as I pour. I sit opposite her, my own glass within reach, watching the way she sinks into the quiet.
“This was such a good idea,” she says after a few silent moments. “It’s so peaceful.”
It’s not always, but I allow her to live in the illusion. “Glad you think so.” Give the grazing board a little scoot in her direction. “Try the prosciutto—it’s delicious.”
She grins and reaches for the meat. “What kind of guy builds cheese boards?”
Hungry guys. “The kind who’s trying to earn bonus points.”
“I assumed when I got here that I’d be walking into a house full of crushed beer cans and piles of disgusting, dirty laundry.”
I shake my head. “Nope. We have a cleaning lady who comes twice a week and she puts up with none of that nonsense.”
We munch on nuts, cheese, and sugar snap peas for several minutes, the only sound is our chewing and swallowing and the occasional sip of wine.
Nova lets out an ahh after a satisfying gulp of red.
“Tell me something dumb,” she says suddenly. “That you’ve done.”
I blink. “Eh?”
“Something dumb. Light. You know. To keep the spiral at bay.”
“Okay.” I think for half a second. “I believed until age nine that the moon followed me specifically.”
She chokes on her wine, laughing into the glass. “Stop it right now.”
“Dead serious. I was that stupid.”
She shakes her head to disagree. “No, pretty sure that’s normal.” Nova hesitates. “Growing up there was a bright star I could see out my window on clear nights. And I would pray on that star, but instead of praying to God—I prayed to Justin Bieber.”
Of course she did.
“Dear Justin,” Nova begins. “My mom said I couldn’t get bangs. Please tell her to change her mind.” She giggles. “Dear Justin, please please please let Will Parker ask me to the fall formal or at least notice I exist.”
I laugh. “Did he answer?”
“She did indeed let me get bangs,” she admits with a nod. “They were tragic—but not the point.”
“I’m sorry. This information changes everything.”
Nova lifts her head, cheeks pink. “What information?”
“I can’t un-know the fact your childhood religion was a Canadian pop star.”
“Pfft. He had swag, okay?” she says defensively, wagging her wine glass at me. “And he was listening.”
I raise my glass to propose a toast. “To the Church of Bieber and misguided childhood choices!”
We take a long sip in unison, the wine warm and heavy now. I feel it in my shoulders, my fingers. Everything loosening, softening.
Nova sighs. “I think this wine is going to my head.”
“I think this night is going to mine.”
She smiles, lazy and loose, the kind that makes me want to kiss it right off her face. Instead, I reach for the last of the sugared pecans and toss one at her.
It hits her hoodie and rolls into her lap.
“Excuse you,” she says, affronted.
“I panicked,” I say. “Too much cuteness. Had to defuse it.”
She picks up the pecan, considers throwing it back, then pops it in her mouth instead. “I’m letting that slide because I’m buzzed and want to crawl all over you.”
Oh—this is great news.
Even better, because she sets her empty wine glass on the table and stands, climbing into my lap like we’ve snuggled a hundred times. Second nature. Like I’m her favorite chair.
Her legs hanging off one side of her, Nova loops her arms around my neck, and I get an up-close-and-personal look at her dilated pupils; the freckles across the bridge of her nose, flushed cheeks, and a dazed smile.
Goddamn she’s beautiful.
She kisses the side of my jaw, inhaling deeply. “You smell so good.”
“Thanks. I showered.”
21
nova
One minute I'm curled in the chair, warm and floaty from wine and sugar, and the next I'm perched on Luca's thighs like I belong there. Like I've always belonged there, I was just too stubborn to admit it.