Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“It’s not too late to go back to your passion.”
She squints.
“Acting.”
“Mmm.” She nods. “What do you think I’m doing now? Every day, I put on a costume, do my hair and makeup, and take the stage. Only the stage is a multi-million-dollar home. And I get subtle compliments and access to a pool instead of a standing ovation.”
“That makes me an actor too?” I ask.
She sips her hibiscus tea and shrugs. “Sure. We’re all actors in this thing called life. We take on roles: spouse, parent, child, friend, boss, employee … lover.” Her lips twitch with a hint of amusement, but it fades just as quickly. “We don’t even know why we’re here. To make the world a better place? To love? To procreate? To simply exist? Or is it a game? No one knows. But we don’t know what else to do. So here we are doing whatever the ‘thing’ is. And we have traditions and rules to live by that are supposed to make it easier and perhaps give life more meaning.
“But I feel like I’m not supposed to be here—” She quickly gives me a hard headshake before I can protest. “So in some ways, the rules feel like they don’t apply to me. And that’s freeing. However, you’re following a path, so the rules should matter to you.”
“What rules?”
“The kind that says you should love, honor, and cherish the one you’ve chosen and be faithful to her, forsaking all others.” She reaches her fork across the table again.
I block it, sliding my bowl away from her. “Nope. You don’t get to guilt me like that, then steal my cake. I don’t care that you think the rules don’t apply to you. I’m enforcing the no-sharing rule until you apologize for ruining a perfectly good night.”
Alice giggles. “I’m sorry.”
“Prove it.”
“How am I supposed to prove it?”
“Kiss me.”
Her cheeks flush. “Stop.”
I take another bite and close my eyes. “Mmm, this is so good and almost gone.”
She reaches for the bowl, and I shield it by curling my arm round it.
Taking another bite of her salad, she squints at me.
I scoop the last big bite into my spoon, and her gaze shifts to it. In the next breath, she tosses her napkin on the table beside her plate and moves to my side of the booth. I peer down at her, and we have a stare off. When she leans in, I duck my head to kiss her because I need to feel her mouth against mine.
At the last second, she presses two fingers to my lips. “Say it,” she whispers.
It takes a few seconds to figure it out. Then I smile and murmur, “Hi,” against her fingers.
She mirrors my grin and drops her hand. It’s a slow kiss. One of her hands rests on my leg and the other slides along my neck until her fingers tease my nape.
Flick. Flick. Flick.
My irresponsibility threatens to ignite the fire that will burn my world to the ground.
After I pay the check, we find a side street to stroll down, hand-in-hand.
Callen who?
Blair who?
What marriage?
Nope. None of that. Just two lovers reuniting after years apart, falling into step once again in a secret affair. Reality is an afterthought when one’s heart speaks louder than the mind.
“Don’t pretend that doesn’t give you a hard-on,” she says, nodding to a pile of wood in the yard to our right where a recent storm took down a tree.
“I think you know what gives me a hard-on.”
She nudges me with her arm, and I right myself before stepping off the sidewalk. “I’m serious. Your father would be so disappointed in you for giving up on your art.”
“You never met my father. How do you know he’s not in Heaven still picking splinters out of his fingers, proud of me for coming to my senses and finding a different hobby?”
“Oh? What’s your new hobby?”
“I don’t know. Some of us don’t have natural talent at everything.”
“I can only imagine.” She smirks, tucking her chin.
“Is that a humble brag?”
“No.” She giggles.
“I think it is.” I release her hand and wrap my arm around her neck, pulling her into my side, teasing my knuckles over her head like an older brother would torment his younger sibling. But, it doesn’t last long because, in the next breath, I slide all of my fingers into her hair and kiss her in the middle of the sidewalk.
Flick. Flick. Flick.
There’s smoke and heat. When we ignite, I won’t be able to stop.
Chapter Forty-Two
Alice
The past is always there.
It’s reliable and unchanging.
My least favorite role is “mistress.”
If I could really hate Blair, it might make it easier. Even when I try to focus on the two men she abandoned before Murphy, I still can’t reach the right level of disregard for her feelings.
But …
And this is a big but.