Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I feel the blood drain from my face, leaving behind a hollow ache. I can only imagine how she is feeling right now. I can’t believe my friends did this to her. I can hear Maria’s voice in the background of my anger, trying to apologize, her voice grating on me like fingernails on glass. I turn to her, my eyes hard, and when I speak, my voice is flat and icy.
"What the fuck were you thinking? Why did you choose that clip?"
Maria opens her mouth, and stammers, starts to explain, but I don’t wait. I jump up and cross the tent. I feel like my legs are moving before my mind can catch up. I have to find Pippa. The tent seems to stretch out, the chandeliers blurring overhead, the music fading into a distant hum. I have to find her.
I burst through the tent flap and out into the night. The ocean air hits me, bracing and sharp. I scan the edges of the garden and the driveway, the paths illuminated by faint strings of lights. There she is, near the end of the driveway, standing near the curb. I start towards her. Her fingers are flying across her cellphone screen, and her face is lit up by the bluish glow from it. She looks frantic and smaller somehow.
“How the hell am I supposed to order an Uber in this stupid place?” she curses, and I am shocked to hear that she sounds close to tears.
“Pippa,” I call softly.
She flinches and drops her phone into her purse. I see the tension in her shoulders, the way she tries to hide her face, to vanish even further into herself. I close the distance between us, moving quickly. When I reach her, I take her into my arms before she can react.
For a brief second, she melts into me, and I think she’s going to be ok, but then she freezes, and wrenches herself away from me, pushing at me with shaking hands.
"Don’t," she whispers, her voice tight, controlled enough that I can no longer hear the tears behind it. "Please. Don’t touch me. Let me go."
I know I could hold onto her, and she couldn’t wriggle free, but I drop my arms at her request, even as confusion and hurt twist inside of me.
"Pippa, listen. I’m sorry. I had no idea that clip was being shown. You have to believe me."
She shakes her head, a small, sad smile pulling at her lips. "It’s fine. I believe you. Really. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Our work here is done. George wants me back, and Vanessa has taken the hint and moved on. We can drop the act now. And the way everyone laughed at me tonight is the perfect excuse for why I left when your friends ask why we split up."
My chest constricts. She gives me another sad smile, and then she reaches for her ring. I watch, numb, as she slips it off her finger and extends it toward me. The diamond catches the moonlight and gleams with cruel mockery.
“Time to give the ring back,” she says softly, almost tenderly. "Here. Take it. Your jeweler will be wanting it back."
I don’t move to take it, and when I speak, my voice barely emerges. What does come out is rough and low.
"Pippa, please. Don’t do this."
She shakes her head, a single tear glistening at the corner of her eye. "I have to, Rhett. I’m going home to George. It’s him I love. This was fun, yes, but it was never real. What real difference does it make if I fly home tonight or in the morning?"
I swallow hard, a lump forming in my throat. I want to argue, to fight, to pull her back and tell her that she is wrong - that what we have could be real, and that I don’t want her to fly home at all, but the words refuse to come.
She is slipping away, and I feel powerless in a way I had never known. I thought she had started to fall for me. I thought I would never let her go … but really, I can’t hold her against her will. I can’t even blame her for wanting to leave. This was the deal, and it’s not her fault that I fell for her. But I still feel it isn’t all one-sided. I know she feels something for me too. But she is choosing him. She is too distraught. The only thing to do is to let her go … for tonight. I will regroup and renew my efforts to win her back in the morning.
I reach into my pocket for my phone and send a quick message to my chauffeur. Pippa watches me, her expression unreadable.
“My chauffeur is coming to get you. He will take you wherever you want to go,” I tell her.