Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
I fell silent, just breathing into the phone for several seconds. I can’t believe this.
“Are you okay?” she whispered.
“I will be.” My voice shook as I wiped a tear from my eye.
“Are you crying?”
I didn’t want to admit it, but clearly it was obvious. I didn’t answer.
She sobbed into the phone. “I’m so sorry, Dorian.”
“Stop apologizing. You did nothing wrong, and I’ll be okay.” My tone was stern as I desperately tried to stifle my tears.
Primrose sniffled. “I hate myself right now. I hate myself for hurting you like this after everything you’ve been through.”
“Sometimes we have to make tough decisions. Boy, do I know about that. I made one when I pretended not to love you anymore. And you’re making one right now, pretending not to love me.”
CHAPTER 27
* * *
Primrose
It had been two months since the night I’d called Dorian. The back-and-forth debate I’d endured for a week before making that decision had nearly killed me, and I’d needed to put myself out of my misery. The only way I knew to do that was to force myself to choose.
My decision, though, had brought me very little peace. I’d thought about Dorian every hour of every day since. I’d hoped that setting him free would somehow squelch the longing inside of me, but it had only made it worse. The hurt in his voice when I’d called him still haunted me. So did his words—that I was pretending not to love him. That was the truth.
After I told Dorian I was going forward with the wedding, I’d decided to keep everything that had happened to myself and not upset Casey. And I couldn’t bear the thought of going through it all again. Did I love Casey? Yes. But I loved him for different reasons than I loved Dorian. Reasons that weren’t as authentically pure and unconditional. I’d never dreamed I would be the one to ultimately hurt Dorian after I’d felt so hurt by him for so many years. But my hurting him was ultimately what ended us.
You did it for Rosie, I kept telling myself.
It was mid-morning, and I had an hour before it was time to get Rosie from preschool. This was always the time of day when I was tempted to search Dorian’s name online or even pick up the phone and call to see how he was doing. But nothing good could come from reopening wounds still in the process of healing. So I resisted.
The doorbell rang, and I opened the door to find a delivery man holding a small package.
“I’m gonna need your signature for this, ma’am.”
“Sure.” I signed his electronic pad and took the box. When I saw the name on the return label, my stomach dropped. Dorian Vanderbilt.
I took the box to the kitchen before rummaging through my junk drawer for scissors. My hands shook. After carefully slicing through the tape, I opened the package. Inside was a small box. When I lifted the cover, I nearly fell back at the sight of a sparkling engagement ring.
What?
Why?
Has he lost his mind?
The diamond had to be at least four carats.
There was a note inside.
Primrose, after my father passed away, his and Christina’s personal belongings that had been with them at the time of their deaths were shipped to me in Boston. One of the items was Christina’s engagement ring. I’d kept it in a safe deposit box at my bank. Recently, I went back to Boston and cleared everything out. As you’re Christina’s next of kin, I believe you should keep this ring. I hope you’re doing well. -Dorian
Now that I looked more closely at the ring, I did recognize it as Aunt Christina’s. She didn’t always wear it, but I had seen it a couple of times. My heart pounded. What the hell had I been thinking? That he was sending me a proposal in the mail? Begging me to change my mind?
I stared at the ring for several minutes, the sun in my kitchen sparkling off what I was sure was a flawless diamond—absolutely beautiful yet so bittersweet because this had been on Christina’s hand when she died. This was my opportunity to have what might’ve been her most cherished item. It was an honor.
I reread the note a few times. So formal. No salutation at the end. He’d just signed it Dorian. I understood completely, even if I hated that after everything we’d been through, this was the only type of communication we had left.
I walked the box out to the recycle bin and almost discarded it before I noticed one other item inside with the tissue paper. My chest constricted at the sight of it.
A single red rosebud.
Oh, my heart.
My Dorian.
***
A week later, I was scrolling social media, once again fighting the urge to search Dorian’s name online. Over the past week, I’d caved and searched more times than I could count.