Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“I’m past that too,” she blurts out, her tone bordering on anger. “It doesn’t matter though. What we feel doesn’t matter because you lied to me, William.”
“I did,” I admit because I want her to know all my truths. “I have things to tell you.”
Her shoulders push back. “What things?”
I look around the bar. I don’t want to do this here. This space holds the promise of her future, and if she decides I’m a part of her past, I don’t want the conversation we need to have to haunt her whenever she walks in here.
“I’d like you to come home with me,” I rush through that and keep going, “I want to show you my home, Opal. I think we should talk there.”
“Your home in Brooklyn?” Sarcasm laces every syllable. “Or the one in Tribeca?”
“Tribeca,” I answer succinctly. “I’ll explain about the apartment in Brooklyn and everything else.”
“Everything else?” she questions. “What else is there?”
Percy.
My job.
The constant ache that has taken root inside of me at the prospect of a life without her.
“There are things I want you to know,” I say. “Things I should have told you the day we met.”
She scrubs a hand over the back of her neck. “I should tell you to go to hell.”
“You’re right.” I nod. “You should, but I’m asking for an hour of your time to explain things. I’m a good man who made some bad decisions.”
“I’ve heard that from a man before,” she scoffs.
Someone hurt her. I see that now. I hear it in her voice.
“Please give me sixty minutes,” I plead. “If you never want to see me again after that, I’ll leave you alone.”
My chest tightens at the thought of that. My world without Opal is incomprehensible. Weeks ago, I didn’t know she existed. Now, I can’t fathom a life without her.
“Sixty minutes,” she repeats. “That’s all I can give you, William.”
I’ll take it, and use it to explain that I’m a better man than I’ve shown myself to be. I’m the best man for her, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to her.
59
William
“I’ll flag down a cab,” I say to Opal as she locks the door to her bar. “Or I can order a rideshare.”
Shaking her head, she drops her keys into the tote bag slung over her shoulder. “I’d like to walk for a bit first.”
I have no problem with that because I’ll give her anything she wants. “Of course.”
She instinctively sets off in the direction of Tribeca. It would be quite a hike if we did it all on foot, but I’m game. Something tells me she wants a quick out if our conversation goes sideways. I can’t blame her for that. I have a lot to atone for.
“Who does the Brooklyn apartment belong to?” she asks as we round the corner.
“It’s mine,” I tell her. “I bought it years ago. It was the first property I ever purchased.”
Glancing at me, her eyes narrow. “You own it and an apartment in Tribeca?”
Technically, I own a penthouse in Tribeca, but that’s semantics and a detail that isn’t relevant right now. What is relevant is the whole truth, so I give her that, “I also own properties in California, Boston, Nantucket, Vermont, and Paris. Also, I have a yacht.”
I added on the yacht because it was willed to me by a former client. It came as a surprise, and although it’s currently anchored in Nantucket Harbor, I’m rarely there. Selling it is an option and something I’ll likely do one day, but for now, I’m holding onto it because I remember how much the man who left it to me loved the sea.
“You have a yacht?” She smiles for the first time since we left her bar. “Why?”
“That’s a long story,” I say. “I’ll explain it all.”
“Right.” She nods before her gaze shifts back to the sidewalk. “Why did we go to Brooklyn and not Tribeca?”
“Fear,” I answer honestly.
Her steps slow. “Fear?”
I stop in place to give my answer the attention it deserves. I look into her eyes. I want to grab hold of her hands to feel a connection to her as I crack open my heart and let her in, but she’s got both of them tucked into the front pockets of her jeans.
“What do you mean by that, William?” she presses. “I don’t understand.”
I’m not sure I do either, but I try to explain, “I’ve never been in a relationship, Opal. I’ve always engaged in one-night stands. Anything beyond that felt complicated.”
“You thought I’d be a one-night stand,” she says without a hint of bitterness in her tone. “I thought you’d be a one-night stand, too.”
That admission takes me by surprise. “You did?”
“I told you I wanted things to be casual,” she reminds me as the wind whips a few strands of her hair across her cheek. “I needed things to be.”