Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“So . . .” Gregory pulls my attention from outside the window back to him. “I’ve been thinking about us.”
“What about us?” I don’t mean for my voice to pitch, so I take a breath despite my walls rising sky high like a fortress around me.
“Well, it’s been a few months of being seen as a couple.” He hesitates when our eyes connect. I’m just hoping I’m not looking horrified. “Um, people have come to easily accept our relationship.” I remain silent, unable to contribute to the conversation or to what he’s trying to get at. “I was thinking maybe we can make it real?”
“Real?” I rapid-blink a few times, then look away from him. My thoughts don’t align with his, and my heart hangs out in left field, hoping to fall in love again one day. Again. The word strains my heart like a pinched nerve. I felt love for the first time and let it slip away after one night. That’s not what I feel for Gregory. Not at all.
“Yeah,” he says. “We can try for real instead of being just friends, though I hear friends make great lovers—”
“Lovers?”
“Well, lovers as in people in love, not sex, though of course sex would be a part of it—making love or if you’re into something—”
“Stop.” I lower my hands that have flown up between us. Hearing him talk about us as lovers has me cringing inside. But more so, I’m worried. “Why are you saying this? We made a deal to go to events, to hang out on occasion if something required a plus-one, and attend dinners with our parents to get them to stop pressuring us.”
“What if they weren’t pressuring me?”
And there it is . . . I release a heavy breath long and slow to calm my heart that had begun racing when he said the word real. “Listen, Gregory.” I start softly to temper any disappointment he might feel. “I know you care about me. I care about you, too, but it’s diff—”
“I don’t mind different. We can grow together, and over time, you might fall in—”
“Please. Don’t do this.”
He glances through the windshield and then back at me. “Sosie, I need this to be crystal clear for you. We are what other couples dream of being. We’re both extremely attractive . . .” My eyes go wide just as the car pulls to the curb. “We were born into enviable families of wealth and means. We like each other—”
“Not like that.”
His lips press together so hard that they lose color. He takes a breath. “You will come to love me.”
The valet opens the door before I can get another word in edgewise. I’m not sure what to even say to that anyway. If I’m not careful, I’ll take it as a threat, and I know he wouldn’t threaten me. As soon as I land on the sidewalk, I look back at him as he climbs out of the car. Would he?
No. Surely not.
He’s not like my father. It’s one of the things I’ve always appreciated about Gregory. He’s a nice guy. And I still have free will, even if I lose access to my family’s money. Trying to give him the benefit of the doubt as we walk to the door of the restaurant, I reply, “Love can’t be forced.”
Just inside the warmth of the busy restaurant, I loosen the belt of my coat. He slides it from my shoulders and hands it to the coat check before we start through the maze of tables to where our parents are already waiting. He stops me by the arm just before we reach them, and I turn back. He says, “It doesn’t need to be forced. I promise to love you enough for us both.” His chin raises, and a huge smile appears. “Hello,” he greets our parents as if he didn’t just tell me that he doesn’t care if I love him if he gets to be with me.
What in the world is happening?
Cold fingers wrap around my bare arm, and I whip my head to see my mom. “What are you doing? Come to the table.” Heaven forbid, I embarrass her . . .
I go to the empty seat and sit down between Gregory and his father like I’m a Lafoon now. Am I being difficult? Making something from nothing? I exhale a breath, hoping my bad mood leaves with it. Until I’m situated into my better-suited self, I put on a fake smile and pull the cloth napkin across my lap while pleasantries are exchanged. “You look so pretty tonight, Sosie,” his mother says, leaning into her husband as if it’s a secret no one else can hear. “Your dress reminds me that I need an outfit for New Year’s Eve. It’s so festive.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Lafoon.” I glance down at my dress as if I’d forgotten what I was wearing. I loved it the moment I tried it on—metallic threads running through it make it shine, the neckline and spaghetti straps highlight the span across my collarbone where a tennis necklace would have become the star, if I had one. I adore the ease of the A-line that isn’t going to show that I ate more than a few morsels today. I feel pretty, making my confidence bloom.