Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
“Only thinking.” He gives me a smile, but it’s forced.
“Well, think out loud,” I order him. James lets out a long sigh as though telling me exactly how he feels about the Dylan situation is the last thing he wants to do.
“I don’t want to burst your bubble, but I also don’t want you pining away for someone that might not be coming back.”
“He’s coming back,” I rush to say way too defensively. James’ brows lift. “He’s been texting me. If he didn’t have plans to come back, why not just ghost me?” Hell, he could have given me a fake number, but he didn’t.
I have to admit that it burned a little when he left. I knew he had to go, but the time had gone by way too fast. He had helped me close the bar the night before, and we went upstairs and made love. Then he slipped from my bed saying he had to go. I had to fight the urge to beg him to stay. I don’t know how I managed it. It would come off clingy and probably freak him out. I never thought I’d be that girl, but here I am.
I know it's because of my abandonment issues. First my mom and then my dad. Not that my father wanted to leave me, but I still felt left behind. I should be used to it. All it did was open up wounds I’ve been trying to keep closed because I’ve never let them actually heal.
“I just find it odd that he left in the middle of the night to catch a plane. You know those don't take off in the middle of the night. What exactly is it that he said he does for a living?”
“Crowd management.”
“A security guard?” James gives me a perplexed expression.
“He said it’s corporate speak for social media influencer.”
“So he’s an Instagram model?”
“No. He’s in crowd management for a company.”
“What company?”
“What are you, the police?” I get defensive again. James holds his hands up.
“It’s sketchy, and to be downright honest with you, he almost sounds married.” My heart sinks.
“No.” I adamantly shake my head. He can’t be.
“Clover, I love you. You’re like a little sister to me, but you can’t just believe whatever he tells you. He might still be texting to string you along in case he does get a chance to swing back this way.” I keep shaking my head no, but his words rattle me.
“I’m naïve.”
“You're a sweet girl who trusts people.” I hate the look of sympathy he’s currently wearing.
As if Dylan knows I’m talking about him, my phone goes off with a text.
Dylan: I miss you. Come out here. I’ll get you a plane ticket.
“Look!” I shove my phone at James so he can see how wrong he is. If Dylan were married, he wouldn’t be offering to bring me out there.
“He wants to fly you out. Big deal. Does he expect you to drop your life here and rush over to a man who doesn’t tell you shit about himself?”
“Okay,” I sigh. “Keep your thoughts inside your head again.” That’s enough reality for me for today.
“This is one of those times you need to hear it.”
“You’re still thinking out loud,” I grumble.
“I know, but someone has to be honest with you.” James drops a kiss on top of my head. He’s saying what my dad would say. I text him back.
Me: I have a bar to run. I can’t just up and leave.
I’m sure I can have staff run things for a few days if I really wanted to. The same people have worked here for years. I even have random servers I can call to pick up shifts if need be. Perks of living in a small town.
My phone rings a moment later, Dylan’s name lighting up my screen. “Answer it. I’m going to lock up,” James says. “I’ll leave you alone about it. I said my piece. You’re a grown woman.”
“Thanks,” I say before answering the call.
“Irish.” Dylan says my name before I can speak.
“Hey,” I respond, feeling suddenly shy. When he was here, I hadn’t been, but now doubt is starting to seep in.
“I just miss you. I know you have the bar. I’m stuck in LA for the next few days, and it’s driving me crazy not seeing you.”
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
“Whoever said that was full of shit.” I snort a laugh.
“I miss you too,” I admit. “You’re not married, are you?” I blurt out.
“What? No. I told you—”
“I know. I know.” I cut him off. “It’s just, I don’t know some things.” The line is quiet for a long moment.
“I’m not married. You’re my girl. The only girl.” I could melt into a puddle, but it’s all words.
“What are you doing now?” I ask, changing the subject. I don’t want to come off as some jealous clinger.