Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Without missing a beat, Aspen clicked her tongue, scoffed, and tipped her head with a scrunched nose and smile. “Really? I read an article about how the elite prefer vintage rings because they reflect value and character. They’re said to represent loyal, discerning personalities. Meanwhile, modern rings were said to be going out of style since they showcase a cold demeanor and represent people who are more self-absorbed and insecure.” She smiled, admiring the ring. “I think wearing his mother’s ring is an honor. A tradition worth respecting. Even if it may have been tarnished with a lack of appreciation before me.”
Daria’s smile froze as her eyes widened, trying to absorb the back-handed bitch-slaps Aspen kept delivering. Bubbles of laughter floated through my chest, but I managed to keep them down and continued to watch the back and forth between the two women, like a spectator at a tennis match.
With each passive-aggressive exchange, Aspen rose higher while Daria scrambled for footing. Until finally, Daria pulled her phone from her purse, faking a laugh and a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have to take this. It was…nice to meet you, Aspen. And nice to see you again, Lucian. I’ll let John know you said hi.”
“Don’t bother,” I said with the most genuine smile I’d given her since our wedding day.
I drew a deep breath, more relaxed than I’d ever been after an interaction with my ex. On top of that, the usual residual anger, clinging to me like an oil slick, was absent. All because of the woman still tucked under my arm.
I glanced down at her, awe unfurling through me. “I don’t know whether to be impressed by you or scared of you.”
Her eyes sparkled above a slow, sultry smile as she rose onto her toes, bringing her lips to mine. “Both,” she whispered before closing the gap.
I ached to pull her close and drown in the kiss, but she broke away and spun around, still clutching my hand. “Now, let’s go finish jazzing up the apartment you demanded I move into with you.”
As if the experience created a Freaky Friday switch, we flipped roles.
I rolled my eyes, and she winked.
She led, and without a second thought, I followed.
CHAPTER 13
LUCIAN
“Ican’t believe we found that painting today,” Aspen said, a radiant smile stretching her cheeks.
I held up the large, framed artwork, studying the woman dancing in a flowing white skirt while a drummer played beside her, the background an abstract mixture of navy and rusty oranges. “The world must have overheard you telling me about Bomba and placed it in our path.”
She stared at me with raised brows, clutching the blue crushed velvet pillow she’d been fluffing. “That’s odd coming from you.”
“Why’s that?”
She shook her head and laughed before going back to setting the throw pillow in front of an orange one. “It’s something I would expect to hear from someone who believed in fate, tarot cards, or other fantastical things.”
“I can be fantastical,” I defended.
She reached for another pillow, giving me a dry look. “You’re a cold, hard facts kind of guy.”
“That’s fair,” I shrugged with a laugh.
She moved down the couch, fluffing each colorful square until I could barely see the dark gray anymore. Not that I minded. I smiled softly and looked around, enjoying the pops of color. I enjoyed seeing parts of Aspen all around me. It was no longer a neutral canvas of my own making. With her, it’d turned into a work of art that we made together.
An old, familiar lightness fluttered through my chest—a whisper of a feeling I remembered having when I was younger. I closed my eyes and forced myself to just feel it because if I thought about it, it would set off the alarms again. And I wanted to enjoy the moment. I wanted to enjoy the way my chest swelled with contentment. As if I’d found a food I’d forgotten I loved and was relishing the flavors like it was the first bite all over again.
Still, no matter how much I tried to ignore the looming doubt, it crept in to taint the feeling. I avoided the uncertainty, tucking it aside for later, and moved on. “You know where this picture would look great hanging?” I asked with a sly smirk.
She whirled around, staring at me with pursed lips. “We are not moving Jesus.”
I rolled my eyes and heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Fine.”
Her lips twitched, unable to hide her amusement at my dramatics.
I rested the picture against the wall before heading to the couch and falling back. “I gotta say, I thought all these pillows would be overkill. But, as much as I hate to say it, I can begrudgingly admit they are quite comfortable.”
“I’m a woman of function, not frivolity,” she declared, her chin held high.