Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Pizza,” I announce, my voice far steadier than I feel. “We’re getting pizza. Because apparently, that’s the only way I’m coping right now with my encounter with a purse thief.”
His mouth curves into a grin. “Pizza? Now you’re talking.”
New York pizza is nothing like the kind back home. The slices are enormous, thin enough that they flop under their own weight. We find a hole in the wall type of place just off the square, the kind with old-fashioned lighting and cracked red booths, a line of people stretching to the door. The air smells like heaven, filled with the tang of yeasty dough, bubbling cheese, and rich tomato sauce.
We each get a slice of pizza the size of my torso and squeeze into a corner booth. I burn my tongue on the first bite, but I don’t even care.
“Oh my god,” I moan around a mouthful. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“Control yourself, Pippa Fairfax. You’re making it sound indecent.”
I kick him under the table, grinning despite myself. “Shut up. You know it’s amazing.”
He takes a bite of his own, chewing thoughtfully. “Not bad.”
“Not bad?” I gape at him. “This is a religious experience. This is proof there’s a higher power. This is …”
He cuts me off by stealing the crust from my plate.
“Hey, get another, you greedy guts,” I scold.
Then I have to laugh. His expression. And just like that, the earlier tension in my chest melts away. For a moment, it’s just us with pizza sauce on our fingers, the neon lights still flickering faintly through the window.
My phone buzzes on the table, announcing I have a text message. I glance down, expecting it to be Sandra or Lucy demanding updates. But the name flashing on the screen makes my stomach dip. George. I read the message without picking the cell phone up. The message is short.
Your mother said you are in New York. I miss you. Come home soon. Please.
There’s even a little heart emoji tagged on at the end.
For a second, I just stare at it. I have a text message from George, who once took up so much space in my head. George, whom I thought I loved with all my heart. He’s telling me exactly what I’ve wanted to hear since the day he callously broke my heart and left me to languish while he carried on with Claudia. But now, well, I can’t even remember the last time I pined for him. Certainly not once today. Not once since Rhett and I met. My thumb hovers, but the urge to reply just isn’t there. I let the screen go dark.
When I glance up, Rhett is watching me. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t need to. His mouth tilts into a grin, like he already knows the answer. I roll my eyes and take another huge bite of pizza, pretending not to notice. But warmth spreads through me anyway, as undeniable as the glittering ring on my finger.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Pippa
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cz0FF3vJ2TM&list=RDm5N9IHqqGcA&index=27
-Summer wine-
The longer Rhett and I linger after we have finished eating our pizza, the more the city seems to pulse around us. The neon signs look brighter now, the crowd is denser, and the hum of traffic is louder. Everything feels heightened. Maybe it’s because my body is still buzzing from adrenaline, maybe it’s because of the way Rhett keeps glancing at me when he thinks I’m not looking, like he’s checking if I’m really here, really safe.
We step back into the square, weaving our way through the throngs of people. Street performers cluster near the pedestrian zone. A breakdancing crew has claimed a patch of the pavement and is doing their thing. Spinning and flipping while a circle of onlookers claps and cheers. I find myself clapping too, caught up in the moment. Rhett leans down to murmur in my ear, his voice warm against my skin.
“You’re going to get pulled into the circle if you keep that up.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Not unless you want to see me trip over my own feet.”
His hand brushes mine. The accidental contact lingers just a fraction too long, sending sparks up my arm. I don’t pull away. Neither does he.
For a moment, I let myself just stand there, bathed in artificial light, the world’s biggest screen wrapping us in its glow. Back home, everything is quieter, smaller. Here, I feel like I’m inside the center of something bigger.
“You look excited,” Rhett says softly, almost amused.
“How could I not be? It’s like the whole city is trying to dazzle me into submission.”
“Is it working?”
I glance at him, and my heart skips a beat. Not because of the lights. Because of him. “Maybe,” I whisper, but the answer is already written in how I feel.
By the time we decide to leave, the night is thick and humming. The subway takes us back out of the city and toward the coast, but the energy of Times Square clings to me, like glitter you can’t shake off. I keep replaying everything from the day in a mind movie. The gifts we bought, the purse snatching, the way Rhett ran after the thief without hesitation, the pizza, and the message from George I ignored. And the way my heart decided, in a moment of shock mingled with relief, that it belonged to Rhett.