Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Milly pressed her lips together, her eyelids fluttering like they used to when she was nervous. “I said, I promise I’m not stalking you.”
I arched an eyebrow at her statement, refusing to let my mouth round into a smile. She was fucking adorable, and I hated how much power she still had over me. My life was a shitshow right now, and I didn’t need the addition of the first woman I’d ever loved moving back into town. When my sister had told me Milly had come home, I’d made the decision there and then to avoid her. I had too much on my plate without being reminded of the most painful rejection of my life.
“Hard to believe,” I said at last, and her pretty lashes fluttered at my response.
“Oh, come on. You honestly don’t think that—”
Before she could finish the sentence, I strode away. I wasn’t trying to be an arsehole, but I just couldn’t allow myself to stand there and make conversation with her. If I spent more than a few brief moments in Milly’s company, all those old feelings would begin to resurface even more, and as I said, I didn’t have the time. It was important that I focused on myself and my kids and nothing else.
And yes, I knew she wasn’t stalking me. She’d clearly gone out of her way to find a pool outside of town for the very purpose of avoiding me. What she didn’t factor in was that I was also avoiding people, namely my friends and family whose overbearing concern for my recent behaviour change was weighing on me. So, I didn’t use the pool at the hotel and instead came here.
I felt a strange tightness in my chest to know that Milly still swam. It was something we used to do together, and the fact that she was here had me feeling a pinch of nostalgia.
See? This was the problem. When it came to Milly O’Shea, it was impossible to keep from being sucked into her orbit. I’d never been able to resist her pull, and she was a weakness I didn’t need when I was already struggling just to get through each day.
My ex-wife, Paloma, had left last month to go on tour for a year with the famous pop singer, Rosanna Dove. My son, Pablo, wasn’t too fussed about her leaving, ever the unflappable sixteen year old boy. Unfortunately, her absence was badly affecting my daughter, Gigi. Paloma was a violinist, and she’d used to go on tour all the time back before we’d had kids and settled down. At the time, it had been what she’d wanted. Being a travelling musician had been a struggle, and she’d been tired of the low pay, dealing with bad managers and even worse venue owners. She’d been ready for a change, and even though I’d been willing to work fewer hours to help take care of the kids, she wouldn’t hear of it. She’d wanted to be a stay-at-home mother, but then over time, things had changed. She’d missed the excitement of being on the road, the thrill of performing. We’d also grown apart in our relationship, and in the end, she’d suggested a divorce. I’d agreed it was the right choice for both of us, and we’d ended up sharing custody while Paloma restarted her music career. Fast forward a few years and she’d gotten this life-changing offer to play with Rosanna Dove.
She’d snatched it with both hands, and I didn’t blame her. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and though she loved Gigi and Pablo, she loved her career, too. She deserved the chance to fulfil her dreams.
My son and daughter were sixteen and fourteen, respectively, and I was happy to have full custody of them while Paloma toured. Since our daughter had taken Paloma’s decision to leave so hard, she felt like she was being abandoned, and it had plunged her into depression. Not too long ago, she’d taken a bunch of over-the-counter pain medication, and I’d gotten there just in time to rush her to the hospital. She still refused to explain to me whether she’d simply been trying to dull her pain or if it were something much worse. I could hardly bring myself to contemplate the latter, and I’d started taking her to see a psychologist on a weekly basis. I’d been hopeful that the sessions would help, but Gigi was still as withdrawn as ever.
I was floundering for a way to help her and just felt so fucking useless.
On top of this, my dad was planning to retire in a couple months and had asked me to take over running the hotel franchise. It was something I’d worked towards my entire career—something I’d looked forward to even—but now that the transition was imminent and Dad was preparing to hand over the reins, I was panicking. What if I fucked up and ran the hotels into the ground? What if everything my dad had built over the last forty years crumbled under my leadership? I’d started to suffer panic attacks and had lost the ability to function as efficiently as I used to. Dad had noticed and told me we could hold off on making it official until I felt ready. But I wasn’t sure when that would happen. I’d always been confident in my abilities, but suddenly, I was adrift. The fear of letting my father and everyone else down was debilitating.