Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
I kiss him, slow and languid, just because I can.
And after we’re out of the pool, dried off and cozy under the covers of the bed, I settle against his chest and fall asleep knowing I never want to wake up from the dream we’ve fallen into.
CHAPTER 11
PAXTON
“And then the manager came looking for us,” I say through my laughter, tilted on my side where I lounge on the beach chair closest to Monroe.
“And we had to hide in the utility closet for an hour.” Monroe is laughing so hard she’s holding her side, looking absolutely stunning in her sarong and swimsuit combo.
I shrug, reeling in my laughter. “We found ways to entertain ourselves.”
“Better than getting our parents kicked out of the hotel for stealing stuff off the hotel carts.” She tilts her sunglasses down so she can eye me.
“Hey, those mints were my favorite at the time,” I argue with a smile.
She fixes her sunglasses, grinning at me as she rolls to her back, stretching out in the long beach chair. She looks ahead, to the ocean that’s softly lapping toward where we set up the chairs on the white sandy beach.
There are a few other patrons several yards away from us, but we mostly have this section to ourselves.
“Still can’t get over how stunning this place is,” Monroe says, glancing toward me, her head resting against the chair.
“It’s pretty incredible from where I’m sitting,” I agree, but I’m looking directly at her.
Her full lips shape a smile. “Definitely different from all the other vacations we’ve taken before,” she says.
I chuckle. “Definitely.” I swallow hard, heat zapping across my body at the thought of just how different this vacation has been. I’ve been living out my wildest fantasies with the girl of my dreams, and I keep waiting for the moment I’ll wake up. “We mostly stuck to hiking or other excursions on family trips,” I continue. “Not...”
“Not using each other as the excursion?” Monroe offers when I pause, and then we’re both laughing again. “Can you imagine?” she asks casually.
“I can imagine a lot of things,” I say. “Be more specific.” I reach over the small space between us, interlacing our fingers.
“If we’d tried anything like this before,” she answers, tracing the back of my hand with her fingers.
I grin. “We’d probably be married by now,” I say before I can think better of it.
Monroe stiffens next to me, dropping my hand in a no-so-casual way.
I cringe. “Or married and divorced by now,” I hurry to say, trying miserably to cover my slipup.
She forces a laugh, and I want to punch myself.
“Paxton,” she says my name like a warning filled with a heavy dose of pity, and it only makes me feel that much worse. “You know me.”
“I know,” I say quickly.
“Marriage seems like a fairy tale only few achieve.”
“Like your parents,” I say, nodding and doing my best to swallow down the pain that is wreaking havoc on my insides.
She’s not telling me anything I don’t already know, but fucking hell, it still stings. I hoped that whatever is happening between us would be different. It certainly feels different. But maybe that’s just because I’ve been in love with her forever.
“Yeah,” she agrees. “That kind of relationship doesn’t happen to everyone. They’re almost nauseating with how much they love each other.”
She’s not wrong, her parents are the epitome of marital status. They genuinely love each other, respect each other, fight for each other, and put their relationship first. It’s a beautiful thing to witness, a hopeful one, even.
That could be us.
I want to say it.
I want to tell her that so damn badly.
But there’s not a shot in hell that I’m going to blow the time she’s given me.
Even if it’ll hurt all that much more in the end.
She’s worth it.
“When is the next time they’re coming to Bangor?” I ask, desperate to steer the subject back to some common ground that doesn’t feel so damn precarious.
The tension in her shoulders settles a bit and she looks back out at the waves crashing toward us. “They can’t get out until Thanksgiving probably,” she answers.
“Five months? What’s keeping them?” They don’t usually go that long between visits.
“Dad is getting inducted into the NFL hall of fame,” she says.
“No shit?” I ask, smiling at her. “That’s amazing. About damn time too.”
She laughs. “He’s only been retired six years,” she counters.
“Still, I was shocked he didn’t get it that fifth year of retirement. He was the best running back on the 49ers for over a decade.”
Monroe pulls out her phone and pushes it toward me. “You should call and tell him that, he always loves being reminded,” she teases.
I shrug, moving to take her phone. “I’ve got no qualms calling your dad,” I say confidently, but she pulls the phone away, settling it next to her.