Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
“How?”
“None of the characters drawn in the book looked like the characters in the movie.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“Yes. It was stomped on and tossed in the recycling bin.”
“Poor kid.”
“He told all the kids Miss Honey was a fraud.”
“The innocence,” he muses. “How simple the world is when you’re a kid. No adulting to do. No one to keep happy, no bills to pay, feelings to hurt, or grief and heartache to feel.”
“Kids are not kids for long enough anymore.”
“Here.” Dec plucks a marshmallow off the top of my cup and pops it in my mouth so I don’t have to release him to do it myself. “Good?”
“Very,” I waffle around the lump, making him smile. “Have . . . ou . . . ied . . . ot . . . et?”
“Sorry, what?”
I chew and swallow, licking at my lips. “Have you tried the hot chocolate yet?” I can’t get to mine until I’ve chomped my way through these marshmallows.
Dec dips and blows across the top, making the steam billow away from us, then he tentatively puts the cup to his lips and takes a sip. “Oh wow,” he murmurs, his eyes widening at me. “That’s insane.”
I smile, that statement coming out of Dec’s mouth sounding odd. “Good?”
He stops us walking and reaches for my cup, knocking off the marshmallows and sending them tumbling to the ground. “You don’t need those. Get to the good stuff.”
“It’s that good?”
“Try it.”
So I do, blowing too, before taking a sip, my eyes widening also. “Christ.”
“Right?” Dec sups some more, looking up to the sky. “I think it’s got a bar of melted Dairy Milk in it.”
“Definitely,” I agree. “It’s so velvety.”
“But not too sickly.”
“I can’t confirm that until I’m finished.”
And we stand beside each other, working our way through our drinks, the heat in my belly warming me up a treat. But not as well as Dec’s arm around me. I watch him tip his head back to get the very last drop from the bottom of the cup, his stubble-coated throat appearing from beneath his scarf. Unable to resist, and not wanting to, I turn into him and reach up on my tippy-toes, pushing my lips onto his neck, feeling him swallow under my mouth, his cup poised at his lips for a second before he pulls it away and peeks down at me, lowering and angling his head just right to kiss me, our chocolatey tongues swirling softly, our bodies pushing closer.
“Yum,” he whispers, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. When I smile, it pops free, and Dec inhales, taking my cup and tossing it in a nearby bin with his before tucking me under his arm and getting us walking again. “What’s your least favourite colour?” he asks.
“Yellow.”
“Figures.”
“What do you mean?”
“Bet your favourite’s black, isn’t it?”
“Actually, yes. And I bet yours is grey.”
He scrunches his nose and gets me in a headlock, mauling at my ear, and I laugh, easy, light, and . . . happy.
We pass a few pop-up stalls, all loaded with an array of Christmas gifts and decorations, none of which I’m interested in, but something catches my eye and I find myself steering us that way. I home in on a snow globe that’s been placed on a raised stand, set apart from the endless other snow globes. This one’s different from the colourful Christmas scenes in each and every other glass dome. This one has just a white feather inside it, nestled in snowflakes. “What is it?” Dec asks.
Trapped.
“Nothing.” I back away from the stall, forcing a smile when Dec looks at me. He doesn’t get a chance to push me. His phone rings, and he roots through his pocket and pulls it out, rejecting the call from Office. “Do you need to get that?” I ask.
“They’ll text or email if it’s urgent.”
“Could be about your potential acquisition of TF Shipping,” I say casually, watching my feet as I walk.
“I doubt it. Thomas Fryer is hardly prompt when it comes to replying in a timely manner.”
I laugh. “I feel your pain. What if he’s changed his mind?” I ask. “Off the back of you slashing your offer?”
“Then you get to keep the job you obviously hate.”
I nod, breathing in my reality. “Can you believe he was scared to fire me?”
“Yes.” Dec laughs, and I nudge him with my shoulder. He quietens down. “You’re not the woman you want the world to see, Camryn,” he says, hooking his arm around my neck and pulling me closer, pushing his mouth into the top of my head. “And I totally understand why you’re like that.”
“I don’t want to be like that.”
“I know that too,” he whispers. “And it’s one of the reasons why I love you so much.”
I smile.
And we walk on. Quiet. Just . . . together.
* * *