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352 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 22, 2020
“The truth is,” he told her, “I’m not like you. I don’t make lists. I don’t have rational explanations for everything. If you asked me why I wanted you, I wouldn’t be able to give a carefully thought-out account. I could only say that you make me feel like the home I want to live in.”
She simply met his eyes and shook her head. “It doesn’t make any sense for it to be me. Why would it be me?”
“You make perfect sense to me.”
“It is breakfast time,” he announced. “It is no longer time to hold hands.”
“Ah Ba! We weren’t holding hands. He was just…helping me with my hands being sore.”
It was not even slightly convincing. Jeremy felt himself blush.
“Oh,” Mr. Fong said. “I see. Posh Jim, what a self-sacrificing, noble, and convenient reason to hold my daughter’s hands.”
That, Jeremy thought, and the fact that I’m trying to marry her.
Jeremy’s mind seemed to go blank. Thighs and shoulders and neck had been enough to almost tie his tongue. Now he could take in the entire naked expanse of her, turned so that he could see that profile of breast and buttock. Every thought in his mind—incoherent as those had been—seemed to shatter and blow away like dust on dry wind. There was only one thing he could say: “Uhh.”
“Chloe.” His voice was hoarse. “You must know—I may not be serious about anything, but about you? I am.”
They want to make you English, but you need only be yourself.
“I promised that you would fly free, yet here you are, tangled in my petty revenge. If I’d been better, if I had been able to let go… You would be choosing your own path in life.”
