Book 9 1/2 Weeks Novels & Stories

Ninety days. She read the letter twice, folded it precisely along its original creases, and put it in the drawer of her bedside table where she kept the things that required dealing with when she had the mental space to deal with them. Then she went to her afternoon shift at the restaurant and carried plates for five hours and smiled at people and refilled water glasses and thought about ninety days the whole time, the number sitting in her chest like a stone she'd swallowed and couldn't feel the edges of anymore, just the weight. ---

"So you've got time. Not much. But time." Maya heard the room take that in. She saw what it did to Boone's face. Everybody in this hall had spent the morning bracing to be told Wilder was dead. Nobody had braced for years. "Nine weeks," Boone said. His voice came out wrong. "You said nine weeks and then you said years. Which is it." "Nine weeks to take what's in him now," Marlowe said. "Years to take what he makes after. Do try to keep up."

"Very well then. Tomorrow is the beginning of the first day of ninety nine days. Be awake when I get back." She rolled her eyes and made to leave but halted and faced him again. "And just so you know, you are not the only one living in this house so be mindful how you come out of the room. We don't want to be seeing a half naked man each day," she instructed and walked away. Isaiah laughed a little and shook his head. He saw how flushed her face was when he came out of the room. Well who wouldn't be when he is just the perfect man?

I asked, still distracted by Audrey’s innocent gaze on the pages. “Three days at most,” came the reply from one of the attendants. “We need enough time to gather the fabric, and depending on the design, it could take longer.” I felt a wave of pressure settle over me. Three days? The weight of the decision already felt unbearable. “I understand,” I replied, handing the book to the nearest person. “I’ll get back to you in exactly three days.” Once they excused themselves, I sat quietly with Audrey for a few minutes longer, her head resting on my chest as she leaned against me.

Twelve inches, one foot, pure heaven. "Are you saying you could make it bigger?" she asked nervously fidgeting with her hair, "Say... twelve inches?" "Yes, twelve inches is not a problem" the doctor said confidently. "Here, let me show you some of my previous patients." The doctor grabbed a book and sat beside Gina on the couch. She opened the book and Gina felt her breath catch in her throat.

We paid for two hours of a desk and a lamp and we were, for the length of it, four of the least interesting people in Moonfall. Three of us, I should say. My mother was north. I kept catching myself counting four. "Nine weeks and two days," Cassian said, once the door was shut and the lamp was lit. "Start there." "What is in nine weeks?" "In an ordinary woman's diary, nothing. Dinners. A dressmaker."

He asked, jerking me out of my thoughts. I chuckled softly. "It is 150 pages. I believe you can do it." "Thanks for believing in me. But, 150 pages is a big deal to me. I will finish the book in three and a half weeks though, depending on how interesting it is." He said. "You are unbelievable. You should try reading books. Reading should be a hobby for everyone." "You should try playing football. Football should be a hobby for everyone." "Football is difficult." I uttered.

I put the photograph back exactly where I found it. Slid it between the same pages. Pushed the book back into its gap on the shelf. Stood back and made sure nothing looked disturbed. Then I sat in one of the chairs by the window and pressed both hands flat against my stomach and did the arithmetic I'd been avoiding since I walked through the front doors of this house. Thirteen weeks. Not a rough estimate. Not a maybe. Thirteen weeks confirmed by a clinic on a Tuesday morning I'd rescheduled twice because scheduling it made it real, and real was something I hadn't been ready for.

I almost smiled when I caught the look on his face. When he stayed silent for a few seconds, I raised my head to look at him. He was staring at something to my right. I followed his gaze to the book on the bedside table. “I’ll take you to any bookstore you want to go to,” he said. “With no time limit?” I asked. “I get to stay in the store however long I want to.” Valiant tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Half an hour.” “An hour.”

"Como for the wedding." "I will need at least two weeks' notice," she said. "My schedule is not flexible." "You will have six months' notice," I said. "We are not rushing this." "Six months," she said, with the particular satisfaction of someone who has been waiting for a specific conversation and has found it exactly where she left it. "I will book my flights tomorrow. Go and have your morning, Madeline. And well done." I put the phone down and looked at the ring on my hand in the December morning light coming through my window.