Counterfeit Love by Jessica Gadziala

Author:Jessica Gadziala [Gadziala, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-22T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Finch

I wasn't used to having 'the talk.'

But after a lot of thinking with her sleeping peacefully on my chest, it seemed like the only option.

Because shit had changed, hadn't it?

In small ways that led to bigger things.

I mean, I was quitting smoking because she wanted me to. I'd considered--and attempted--it dozens of times in my life. The only time I had been successful was when the choice had been taken away from me when I'd gotten locked up. But as soon as I got out, the first fucking thing I did was go buy a pack. That was the level of addiction we were talking about here. It had gotten to the point where I had accepted it as a part of my life.

Then she came in, throwing around her sass, buying me fucking lollipops and patches, and something seemed to click. Sure, I'd snuck a couple cigarettes. But she had always been there in my ear, whispering about wanting me to live a long life.

So, I was quitting smoking.

And I was thinking about a future that didn't involve a revolving door of beautiful women. Because for the first time in my life, I was starting to think that just one woman could be as equally as fulfilling. Maybe even more so.

I might not have been the smartest guy in the world, but I knew it wasn't going to be an easy sell for her. I understood that what she had been through had made some things hard. If not completely impossible.

But I wanted to try.

I wanted her to give it a try.

Give me a chance.

Maybe it would go nowhere. Maybe she would decide that she was right all along, that relationships were not something she could have in her life.

That was fine.

But I wanted us both to find that out, not just assume it.

She'd been every bit the hard sell I figured she might. But she'd agreed we would give it a go. On her timeline.

That was all I could ask for.

And with that decision made, it felt even more right that we were doing this, working on this little 'project' together.

Getting rid of someone who still had a pull on her.

Dressed all in black, Chris whipped fake license plates out of her bag, telling me to pull over on a side street where she hopped out to attach them with some sort of magnet system, then hopped back in, giving me a nod.

Of course, she thought of the plates. This woman thought of everything.

As we turned down the street to Michael's house, she slapped a wide-brimmed baseball cap on my head, yanking down the brim to obscure my face, then doing the same for herself.

"Cut the lights as soon as you turn in," she demanded, even though she'd already told me the plan three times since we had breakfast.

I was having a hard time figuring out what she was feeling.

Anxiety?

Anticipation?

Uncertainty?

It seemed to be a defense mechanism of hers to hide all those things behind her lists, her plans, and the repetition of them.

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