I stare at the beautiful woman in front of me. Such a different species of female from what I’ve ever known.
“I mean, not my best shot . . . obviously.” She widens her eyes. “Hideous, actually.”
“How are you not upset about this?” I frown.
“Because I’m more than that. And if someone judges me about my looks, then it’s a reflection of them and not me.”
My god . . .
“Do you know how much I love you?” I whisper.
“Well, you better, because I’m just about to move to Bumfuck, London, to live with you.”
I chuckle and take her into my arms, and we hold each other, and after a while, I feel my heartbeat slowly return to normal.
“My mom is crying.” She sighs. “And our flight is boarding.”
“God.”
“You ready to go to Bumfuck, London?” She smiles up at me.
“Please tell me there’s bumfucking in London.”
“Keep dreaming.” She smirks as she turns and walks off.
I stare after her . . . awed.
Hayden Whitmore just may be the strongest person I know . . . perhaps have ever met.
Calm and content, her nature is a force to be reckoned with.
Just when I think I couldn’t love her any more, she goes and ups the ante.
I follow her out into the department lounge. With my heart breaking for her parents, I watch her kiss her mom and dad as they say their goodbyes.
I kiss her mom and shake Harvey’s hand, and he gives me a wink as a gentle reminder of the conversation we had.
“I’ll take good care of her.” I smile, grateful that he has bestowed me with such a precious gift. “Goodbye, Mr. Whitmore.”
“Goodbye, Christopher.”
I take Hayden’s hand, and as she waves to them over her shoulder, we start our new life.
Together.
HAYDEN
The car pulls into the underground parking lot, and I peer out the window in awe.
So many fancy cars all lined up.
We come to a stop beside the elevator, and the driver pops the trunk and hops out to retrieve our luggage.
“We won’t be going out again tonight,” Christopher tells him. “You may finish up.”
“Yes, sir.” He nods. “Would you like me to take your bags up for you?”
“No, I’ve got it. Thanks.”
“See you in the morning.” He turns to me with a kind smile. “Good night, Miss Whitmore.”
“Good night.” I smile. Oh, I like this driver. He’s a nice person; I can tell.
Christopher takes his big backpack and swings it onto his back and goes to take mine, too, and I hold the strap. “I’ve got it.”
“I’ll carry it up.”
“I am quite capable of carrying my own backpack, Christopher,” I huff. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”
He chuckles and drops it at my feet. It lands with a thud.
“You could have passed it to me,” I scoff.
“Wouldn’t want to insult your intelligence,” he mutters as he gets into the elevator. He turns to face the front with a mischievous look on his face.
I know that look.