Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
He’s forever telling me I’m beautiful and perfect just as I am, but with an ex like Scarlet, it’s hard to believe.
She’s the kind of woman who probably wears matching lingerie, whereas my underwear is made of cotton and comes in a multipack.
Will Atlas think I’m desirable when he sees me stripped bare?
“Stop it.” I clench my fists at my sides, willing myself to calm down; I refuse to let my own self-doubts ruin such a special night.
Grabbing my green leggings, I sit on the closed toilet seat and tug them on, followed by his sweater, and then assess myself in the mirror once again.
Even with my growing baby bump, the thick cable knit material is still oversized. And the creamy-white color pairs really well with my leggings.
Apparently, Ellis knows his stuff—never would have guessed it.
I may not be a supermodel, but I look nice… and that’s good enough.
“Well?” he asks expectantly.
I swing the door open. “You were right.”
He swivels the desk chair around to face me. “Of course, I was.” He pretends to dust his shoulder off. “I always am.”
“Oh, God,” I groan. “You sound like Atlas.”
“I think you mean Atlas sounds like me.” He lifts his brows and smirks as he heads for the bedroom door. “Now, I won’t be home until tomorrow afternoon, so you kids be good and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Ellis!” Embarrassment stains my cheeks, but he just grins.
“I’d say don’t get pregnant…” He lowers his eyes to my belly. “But, you know…”
“You’re… you’re…” My words fail me. Ellis sort of reminds me of Maria from The Sound of Music, when all of the nuns are singing about her. How do you solve a problem like Ellis?
“The best? I know.”
“Yeah.” I smile, because he really is a good guy… one of the absolute best. “You are.”
He closes the door behind him, leaving me to finish getting ready on my own.
I keep my hair simple, letting it hang around my shoulders before slipping on my boots. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s the best I can do; I just hope it’s enough…
That I’m enough…
Twenty minutes later, another knock sounds on the bedroom door. “You ready, Pip?”
I force myself out of the bed, take one last glance in the mirror, and then open the door. “As ready as I’m going to be.”
I’m not sure what kind of reaction I was expecting from him, but the look of pure desire wasn’t it.
“Nora, you look…” His words taper off as he drags his teeth over his lower lip.
I’ve never felt more alive, or more desirable than I do now as he eats me up with a hungry gaze.
“I look what?” I rasp, fighting tooth and nail against the negative thoughts trying to weasel their way in.
“Perfect.” He steps into me, wrapping an arm around my waist. “You look fucking perfect.”
“Thank you.” I rest my head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating strong and true beneath his ribs.
“Got something for you,” he murmurs.
“You do?”
“Of course.” As he steps back from me, I notice the small bouquet of sunflowers in his other hand. “For you.”
I take the bouquet from his outstretched hand and clutch it to my chest. No one’s ever given me flowers before and I… I think I love it. “Thank you.” I bury my nose in the blooms and inhale deeply. “They’re beautiful. I… do you have a vase?”
He ducks his head. “I’ve got a cup. Will that work?”
“It’ll work just fine,” I murmur as I practically float into the kitchen to grab a cup from the cabinet.
Atlas swoops in and steals the cup from me, filling it with water before arranging the flowers inside of it. “There you go.”
He sets it on the island and I beam. “Thank you, Atlas. I love them.”
His thoughtfulness is unparalleled. When I was a kid, my dad would always find something for Mom any time he and I did something just the two of us. Whether it was a flower, a trinket, a candy, or a card—she was always at the forefront of his mind. I remember one time I asked him why, and he said “it’s the little things that matter the most,” and Atlas is proving to me day in and day out just how right my dad was.
“Hopefully you love the rest of what I have planned just as much.”
“I know I will.” I rise up onto my tippy-toes to kiss his lips. “But I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to give me a hint.”
“No can do, pretty girl. But grab your jacket and we can head out.”
Anticipation flares to life inside of me as I follow his instructions. I may not be sure what he has planned, but Atlas is easily the most attentive and thoughtful person I know—which means no matter what, tonight will be perfect.