Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I’ve tapped my bracelet on and off all morning to no avail. Jess hasn’t tapped me back. He didn’t text me good morning either, and I was too much of a chickenshit to text him first.
I hate that I’m this way. Proud, fearful, and uncertain.
Ironically, the only thing I feel happy, content, and certain about is that I love Jess.
My phone buzzes, and I leap for it, my heart pounding in my chest. “Please be you, Jess. Please.”
I glance at the screen.
Unknown: Hey, hey. It’s Banks.
I add the number to my contacts and sit on the edge of the bed.
Why is he texting me? Is something wrong? Shit.
Me: Hi.
Banks: I’ll give you fifty bucks to stop tapping that bracelet.
Me: Why?
Banks: Because every time you hit it, Jess stops what he’s doing and stares at it. Then I have to restart what I was saying, and it’s super annoying.
Me: Okay …
I stare at the screen for a reply, but nothing comes.
“What in the world is that all about?” I carry my phone into the kitchen in case it goes off again. “Why would he just look at the bracelet? Does he not want me tapping it? Does he regret it today?”
My stomach churns. Fuck.
Panic rises from the depths of my soul and mixes with the bile in my throat.
I don’t want to think that’s the case, but it must be. He certainly hasn’t tapped me back.
My knees weaken. I sit at the kitchen table and put my head in my hands, trying to sort my emotions so I can think.
I jump when my phone buzzes again.
Banks: You’ve never lived until you’ve risked your life. Just saying.
I laugh.
Me: What?
Banks: What’s the worst thing that could happen to you? You could die. But how does that happen? Because Jess loves you to death? Poor you.
Me: Banks, I’m not sure we’re on a close enough level for you to be saying this to me.
Banks: You’ve leveled up, fam. Congrats.
Me: You do realize that your brother’s probably so frustrated with me that he can’t see straight, right?
Banks: I have a sore rib to prove it.
Huh?
Banks: Whether you want to be or not, you’re a Carmichael now. We’ve claimed you. So whether you and Jess fix your shit or not, Hi, sis. Don’t forget me at Christmas.
I laugh, but my bottom lip quivers all the same.
Me: You’re funny.
Banks: Whatever. See you later.
Me: Bye.
Banks: Hey, can you bring some pop? It was my thing, and I forgot.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Me: ?
A knock raps against the door. I’m too busy deciphering Banks’s text to think about it.
“Come in,” I yell. “Honey, is that you?”
The door latches closed. I look up and my stomach hits the floor.
Jess stands in the doorway in a pair of dark denim jeans and a crisp white T-shirt. His hair is wet like he just got out of the shower. The cologne I love so much lures me to him.
“Hi,” I say, my heart in my throat.
“Hi.” He looks me up and down. “Why are you still in your pajamas?”
“We had a conversation about this. I like to sleep in on the weekends.”
“We also had a conversation about this. Sunday dinners are nonnegotiable.”
What?
My body stills as I look at this beautiful man. His face is calm; no games are being played. So what does this mean?
“Come on, Pip. We have about an hour before we eat, and I was hoping to get your opinion on my closet before we go.”
“I …” I furrow my brow. “Your closet?”
He walks across the room and sits next to me at the table. He folds his hands on top near mine but not touching them.
“Jess, I’m confused.”
“About what?”
Is he serious? I don’t know how to verbalize it.
Isn’t he mad at me? Doesn’t he think I’m a brat? Is he disappointed in me but pretending we’re okay?
“You asked me for space,” he says. “So I gave it to you—I’m giving it to you. I left you alone Friday night and all day yesterday. It about killed me, but I did it.”
“But aren’t you …?”
He grins. “Aren’t I what?”
“Mad at me?”
His grin turns into a chuckle.
“Don’t laugh at me,” I say.
“I’m not laughing at you. You’re just too damn cute.”
My cheeks flush as relief creeps through my body.
He leans forward. “I told you I’ll give you what you want and what you need. You needed space. Cool. I mean, not cool—I hate it, but you don’t always get everything you want in life.”
I listen, afraid to speak.
“What did you think?” he asks, a smile flirting with his lips. “That we were over?”
Slowly, I nod.
His smile grows.
“I was afraid that it was over,” I say, my words wrapped with emotion.
“This will never be over for me.”
Tears flood my eyes.
“I don’t understand how long it’s going to take to make you believe that I’m here and I’m not going to leave—unless you tell me you don’t want me.” He reaches for my hand. “But I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”