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Most of the mothers get along, but mine has a personality conflict, especially with Huxley’s mom. Not sure why. Jeremiah is a sensible woman.
Mom has a two-hundred-plus IQ. Everything bores her, and Harvard wouldn’t be an exception.
“Why do people think love is special?” I stop for a second, realizing maybe love isn’t the best analogy. But it slipped out, and it’s going to be weird if I try to take it back. “Why do we make thousands of movies and stories and books about it?”
“Because they’re profitable,” he says. “No. Because love is rare, which makes it special. Some people never even get to experience it before they die.” “If they never do, how do they know they’re missing anything?” “I think part of their soul longs for it. They know, deep inside, the other half of their soul is out there.”
We share a large, cushy lounger. He pulls me into his lap, and I sit sideways with my arms wrapped around his neck. It feels like this is exactly where I belong, and my heart flutters as I inhale his scent along with the briny breeze.
Grant’s annoyingly smug face tells me I’m fired.
Don’t let him know you still feel that old attraction.
Love and dreams are for fairytales, another luxury I can’t afford. Reality requires that I make money.
Hey, you knew what kind of snobbish bitch she is. You knew how she felt about Aspen, and you knew there was a strong possibility she was going to be an obnoxious cunt.
Grant grips my hips and drives into me in one swift stroke. I gasp, stunned that he’s already rock-hard again—and that having him back inside me feels even better than before.
To her, you aren’t the kind of person she can talk to in a situation like this.
“I love you, Aspen.” “What if I hate you?” she demands. “It doesn’t matter. I still love you. I’ll never, ever leave you to be alone.”
“I know you don’t believe me, but I want you to know you’re my everything. I remember every second of our time together. I was riding Starfire when you chased me on the polo field. We danced to ‘La cumparsita’ for the first time, and again when we were in Malibu on that rainy night.”
He sits next to me. He smells amazing, clean and woodsy. “I’ve never brought a woman into this bedroom. Actually, nobody’s really been allowed in my home except the staff, my brothers…and my mom that one time.”
“They’re to mark each year I was away from you. There are fourteen total.”
“I’m never going to leave your side,” he whispers somberly. “I’m always going to be there for you. I’m going to prove myself to you even if I have to walk across broken glass to do it.”
“You’re mine,”
“I will always be yours.”
“Grant,” she murmurs into my ear. “Mmm?” I speak just as softly, luxuriating in the feel of her in my arms. I could stay like this forever and die a happy man. “I love you.”
