Conception (The Wellingtons #4) - Tessa Teevan Page 0,82

heart. “I’m my mother’s son. Which makes me a sucker for a good Cary Grant movie.”

Her laughter sounds like wind chimes making the most beautiful melody. “Ten years is an awfully long time. Plus, that goes against our code of not looking beyond this summer.”

That was before I knew her, I want to protest, but I don’t. Instead, I skip another rock across the small creek. “Then I guess we’ll just have to leave it up to chance. But I promise you, if we run into each other in the future, I’ll welcome all feminine wiles.”

She laughs, utterly unfazed. “It’s a nice thought. And who knows where either of us will be after graduation next spring. Well, we know where you’ll be, big shot. And hopefully I’ll be halfway around the world. But hey, we’ll always have Crystal Cove,” she says wistfully, hammering the final nail in the coffin with her Casablanca reference.

I fucking hate that movie. I hate it even more now that she’s likening our romance fling to it.

Except that’s the wrong word. Just like that movie, this was never supposed to be a romance. For the first time in my life, something isn’t going according to plan.

I don’t tell her I’m starting to rethink our plan. I don’t tell her that my heart’s becoming more involved than I ever thought possible. I don’t tell her that, with each passing day spent together, it grows increasingly harder to imagine saying goodbye to her at the end of the summer or how brutal I already know it’ll be to leave her bed for the last time.

I don’t tell her any of it.

Because Amelia made me promise not to make her fall in love with me.

How could I have known I’d be the one falling?

Guess I should’ve warned her, too.

BETWEEN OUR TRIPS OUT INTO nature and working on Knox’s place, the summer flies by far too quickly. Before I know it, it’s August. Each day that passes is one closer to Knox’s leaving my life forever. Each day that passes, I fall harder for the brute. Each day that passes, I add another brick to the wall around the heart, praying like hell the fortress will be complete before he can topple it to the ground.

As if I didn’t need another sign of our impending split, today we’re putting the finishing touches on the house his parents bought for him. What once was a 1920s abhorrent fishing cottage is now a pretty groovy, modern lake house anyone with sense and style would kill to live in. Not that we’ve done much living here. We still spend every night in my bed.

Stevie Wonder accompanies me on the radio while I deep clean the kitchen. Every so often, banging and cursing come from the bathroom, where Knox is repairing a leaky toilet—the very last thing he has to fix on the place before he can call it complete. As I’m not one to wield a screwdriver, I opted to clean while he did the down-and-dirty work.

Halfway through “Superstitious,” my mouth starts watering and sweat breaks out on my brow. Not in a holy-shit-Knox-just-walked-out-in-nothing-but-his-toolbelt kinda way. More of the oh-my-gosh-get-to-the-sink-before-you-barf-all-over-the-kitchen type.

I barely make it to the sink before my body rids itself of last night’s dinner and this morning’s coffee.

And just in time for the man of my affections to call out for me.

When I don’t answer, Knox wanders out of the bathroom and rushes to my side when he spots me pressed up against the kitchen sink.

“Babe, what the hell? You okay?”

With a shaky hand, I twist the knob on the sink and rinse my mouth with water. “I’m fine.”

“You’re pale as hell and sweatin’ like crazy. What happened in the five minutes it took me to take apart the toilet?”

My stomach roils and I curse myself for eating so much of that crayfish last night. “Could be a combination of the heat and the fumes from the cleaning supplies. But I’m thinking last night’s dinner choice wasn’t the best idea.”

Knox chuckles as his hand runs circles on my back. “Told you you should’ve opted for the brisket.” He grabs a cloth from a drawer next to the sink, dampens it, and presses it against my face. The coolness brings instant relief. “Go home. I’ll finish up here then run and grab you some soup and ginger ale. We can spend the night lounging in your bed, watching movies. After all the work we put in today, I’m beat anyway.”

“Are you sure?

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