Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I’m more receptive to the idea of her touch sending a thousand degrees of sheer hot bliss surging through me.
Wait.
Fuck.
“I didn’t mean for my heart to start banging around in my chest or to think about you all last night or to… to want you, or to trust you. You’re… you really are special. My dad was right,” she continues.
I shake my head, jerking away. I scoot across the counter. The stainless steel makes it easy to move fast with little friction. I contain my hands, trapping them between my knees. “No, I’m clearly cursed. He was right about that. Obviously! Look at this whole thing!”
She tries to edge closer when I hiccup on the last line, gearing up for another mini meltdown, and I freeze her with as cold a look as I can muster. It’s probably more heartbroken than frigid, but it does the job. I don’t need other people to take care of me.
Err, except maybe Adam. Sometimes. When life is nothing more than a haze of pain after being ripped apart and put back together.
I certainly am not going to accept any sort of comfort from Dulcie. That’s like grabbing a butter knife with the intention of making love to a toaster and expecting anything but the worst results.
“It’s beyond messed up. There isn’t even a term for it; it’s so beyond wrong,” I mutter with a groan.
“Beyond and wrong are strong words,” she replies.
It’s annoying how many people are convinced there’s no such thing as can’t.
There are plenty of things that can’t be endured.
This conversation, for one.
The weight I’ve always felt bearing down around my shoulders, as well as my going to Ohio to try and fix anything, for another.
“I’m sorry.” I let her see all my naked regret.
Regret for every single year since I hurt a good man. Regret at the fact that I can’t undo it with one simple action. Regret that any of this happened, and regret that I trusted someone so damn easily, and now a painful storm is gathering in my chest, ready to batter the shit out of me.
“Yeah,” she breathes, her protests silenced by the finality that’s just crept into the room, somber and deadly.
The only thing that got baked here today was bullshit pie.
She snatches up the black leather messenger bag she’d set down next to the paper one on the counter earlier. She digs around until she finds a little notepad and a pen. Her hair obscures most of her face, but I can see her long lashes sweeping up and down rapidly. When she lifts her head, there are streaks in her pale makeup. I swear I’d rather leap off the nearest cliff than see her cry. I hate that I’ve caused her misery. I know it’s more complicated than that, but at heart, it still destroys me.
Inexplicably.
There’s no way any of this makes sense.
“Here.” She tears off the piece of paper and holds it out to me. “If you change your mind, that’s where I’m staying. I’ll be there for a few days yet.” She makes a wet sound in her throat as she clears it. The emotion behind her eyes only makes them darker. Deeper. Easier to fall into. “I’m going to need at least that much time to figure out what I’m going to tell my dad. Not that it’s your fault,” she quickly adds.
She means it.
I don’t take the paper. I’m afraid that if I move even an inch, my limbs will betray me and do something else. Like, reach out to Dulcie.
Christ, this is depressing.
“Okay.” She sets the tiny sheet down on the counter next to me. “For what it’s worth, these have been the two strangest, craziest, best days of my life. Minus now. And the stress and anxiety of knowing I was lying, plus the confusion of also being more myself than I’ve been able to be in years. I know that sorry doesn’t mean shit, but I am, for the parts that hurt. I hope you’re okay. With the surgeries and… and with everything else. This isn’t a guilt trip. I’m not trying to use reverse psychology or manipulate you into anything.
“My family and I will be okay too. I’ll figure out a way. I’m sure if my dad could tell you that himself, he would. He’d hug you too. And then he’d probably cry a little and try and feed you pie, and ummm, I’m just going to show myself out now. Please don’t send your lawyer after me. I promise I won’t say anything about any of this to anyone. I suppose you don’t have any reason to trust me, so uh, if I have to sign any paperwork, there’s my address. I’ll try not to be too alarmed when I see the Grim Reaper of the law at my doorstep.”