Page 134 of The Bronze Garza
With a reluctant nod, I roll off him and onto my back.
As he gets up and zips his pants, I ask, “Am I going to see you again?”
“You want to?” he asks, doing up his belt.
“Always,” I say pathetically. “Until you get tired of me.”
“Want you to do something for me.”
I stretch my arms above my head. “Have your babies?”
He gives me one of his serious looks, though there’s a teeny tiny smile flirting at the corners of his lips. “Create a new vision board. Then let me see it.”
“Why? Are you going to make my dreams come true?”
“Maybe.” He picks up his phone and stuffs it into his pocket. “Just do it.”
“Yes, sir.”
One knee pressed to the mattress, he leans over and kisses me. Soft, lavishing, promising.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” I whisper when our mouths part.
With a low sound in his throat, he runs his fingers through my messy hair, plants a kiss to my forehead, then draws back from the bed and heads for the door.
“How will you leave that way without being see—wait, how did you even getin?”
He glances over his shoulder at me, and, with a small smirk, replies, “You’re cute.”
Then, as quiet as silence, he’s gone.
ChapterThirty-Two
“Are you expecting someone?”
Lyra
“So, what do you think?”
Patrick’s laugh trickles down the line. “Be patient. I am barely halfway through. I have only been able to read in between breaks.”
I stop pacing and plop down on my bed. “Sorry for being a nag. I’m just anxious.”
“For what it is worth, I love what I have read so far and I almost cannot believe you wrote it,” he says. “Who knew you had it in you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, of course. This is some great stuff you have here. I am being paged now so we will talk more about it when I get home.”
“Okay, can’t wait!”
Hanging up, I exhale a relieved sigh. Deep down I believed the story was a steaming pile of hot shit, but we’re always our worst critic, aren’t we?
A few days ago, I’d left a manila envelope outside the gates. Torin never answers my calls or messages, but I’m positive his men are on me, so I knew if I went out in the open and left a suspicious package, they would intercept it.
In it were two USB flash drives of my manuscript, along with a note explaining who they were for—Jo and Torin—and instructions to read it and send me honest feedback.
Though I hardly expect Torin to comply, I’m most anxious about getting feedback from Jo. That woman cannot be outread. She inhales words more than she does air, so her feedback will be the most valuable.
