Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Afterward, he held me tight. I was so curious and wanted to ask him about all the things he saw and the insights he had. I wanted to ask him if he felt better. I wanted to ask him if he was hungry.
And so much more that was completely inappropriate to ask in the moment.
The feelings of insightfulness could last for a week or more after a trip, though the glowing visuals are likely all but gone.
So, while Isaak holds me in what I can only assume is the insightful bliss and haze of a good trip, I’m completely tied up in my own guts wondering when it will be appropriate to confess all my feelings to him.
Because I’m having a lot of feelings. Like being overwhelmed every time I’m near him. Like joy and wild happiness every time I see his face. No one else can make me as infuriated as he can, and no one else can bring me the sense of calm and safety that he does, either.
I love him.
That’s the simple truth. I love him. Even allowing myself to think those three words feels exciting and dangerous and thrilling and not because I’m worried about it being an intrusive thought. This is real. As real as the man in my arms.
So I’ll wait for him. I’ll wait out this week and this month and however long it takes for him to trust that I’m his one, just like he’s mine.
As I linger in the happy warmth of Isaak’s embrace, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I wait for Isaak to tell me to ignore it, but when he doesn’t, I realize that his breathing has been heavy and slow for some time now. He’s asleep. He’s finally in an easy, restful sleep. And my damn, buzzing phone is threatening that.
So I reach over and snatch it up, then look at the caller ID.
Oh god. It’s Drew of all people.
The last person on Earth I want to hear from right now. I click ignore. But the buzzing just starts right back up again. I hit ignore again, and the cycle repeats.
Damn it.
I’ve been cuddled against Isaak’s side, so I scoot out and carefully, oh so carefully, edge off the bed. My eyes stay on Isaak the whole time to make sure I don’t wake him.
But for once it looks like he’s sleeping so deep, eyelids restful, that nothing could wake him.
Oh my gosh. Did we actually do it? I know from my reading that sessions like this can really help veterans with PTSD, but I never really expected to see it in action. Even if this isn’t all he needs, a couple more sessions might really make a difference.
I’m overwhelmed, both by being able to help the man I love and the possibility of the help available to this community that’s so in need. I hope this kind of therapy will be available in more clinical settings and in more places than just Colorado and Oregon.
I wish I could just stand and look down on the gorgeous sleeping form of the man that I love, but unfortunately, the man that I’m still officially engaged to is persistently ringing my phone.
Right. Time to take care of that.
I pull on my robe and walk into the hallway. I suck in a deep breath, then answer the phone.
“Where the hell are you?” Drew’s voice is irate.
I squeeze my upper nose between my fingertips. “What do you mean?”
God, I’m a coward. I’ve never liked confrontation, and here I am again, putting it off until the last possible moment.
“You’re about forty-five minutes late to your bridal shower and your mother is freaking out.”
“Shit, is that today?” I pull my phone from my ear and start to frantically pull up my calendar app. Damn, he’s right. I can’t believe I forgot all about that. Between finally finding my stalker and realizing I wasn’t going to marry Drew, wedding events all just kind of fell off my radar.
“Where are you?” he asks again.
I let out a long sigh. Well, there’s no time like the present to come clean. My finger starts tapping my upper thigh repetitively. Breathe. Just breathe.
“Look, Drew, I’ve been doing some serious thinking lately, and we both know that we’re not in love. It’s time to call off this farce of a wedding. It’s certainly not what I want. And frankly, I have no idea what you want because I don’t know you anymore, if I ever did.”
“What are you saying, Kira? Of course I love you. Come down and talk to me at least. Don’t I deserve that much?”
“I’m not in town, Drew.” I look down the long hotel hallway.
“I know, Kira,” he says, his voice sounding broken. “Your mother tracked your credit card purchases when she couldn’t get ahold of you last night and told me you booked a hotel in Denver. I took an early flight here this morning so I could come talk some sense into you.”