Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
I wipe my face again and then stand tall. My chest doesn’t shake, and my eyes are dry. The band that’s squeezed my chest for days is finally loosening, and I can breathe.
“Whatever the reason was, it’s no excuse. Your family, your little girls—me and Lucia—should’ve been everything to you.” I take a breath. “But I forgive you. Maybe your decisions were like mine when I screwed up my life, and you were only doing what you know how to do. I have to forgive you. If I don’t, I’m going to be as miserable as the two of you were, and I deserve more than that.”
I watch as a crow lands on a tree branch on the edge of the cemetery. It studies me, its little head cocked to the side, and I wonder how many people it’s watched do the same thing I’m doing.
“Drake and I will have a life together filled with hugs and children and buttons on the floor and hopefully tea in the fridge.” I blink back another round of tears—happy ones, this time. “And if you’re watching from wherever you are, I hope you’re proud of me.” I grin. “If not, that’s okay. I’m proud of myself.”
I press a kiss to the headstone and let my palm linger on the top of it for a few moments. Then I turn on my bare foot, heels dangling from my fingers, and leave.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
Gianna
“Are you ready?” Francine asks from my office doorway.
Nope.
I avoid eye contact because I know they’re swollen from crying at the cemetery, and rummage around my desk, presumably to find a notepad and a pen. “Sure. Let me just grab a couple of things.”
Meeting with the Canoodle execs an hour after I cried my eyes out to my dead parents wasn’t how this day was supposed to go. But nothing in these past six weeks went how I thought it would. So I don’t know why I’m surprised.
At least I swung by the house and changed clothes. Going into this meeting with snot on my shirt would’ve been worse.
I find a pad of paper and a pen, then take a quick, hopeful glance at my phone. It’s dark. Drake hasn’t called or texted since this morning, when he told me he was taking Big Ed to the doctor. I know it’s routine, or it sounded that way, but I would still love an update.
Even though I don’t deserve one.
I struggle to breathe as I rise from my chair. I’m still buzzed from the adrenaline of the afternoon and the anticipation of finding Drake. I simultaneously want to beg him for forgiveness and throw up at the realization that I fucking love him. Of course, he won’t hold my behavior against me, but he deserves an apology. I’ve made peace with my parents, talked to Lucia on my way home, and now I need to talk to Drake, and all will be well in my personal life.
I hope.
Now onto my work life, and I have no idea where it’s about to be headed.
“Are you okay?” Francine asks as we move down the hallway.
“Sure. Why?”
She peers at me out of the corner of her eye. “You just look a little tired. That’s all.”
I shrug because I don’t know what else to say.
Drake’s office is dark as we pass. Juni said he took a personal day and might be in this afternoon. I want so badly to check on him, to hear his voice, and make sure everything is okay with Big Ed.
No, what I really want to do is run out of this building and fly to his apartment and jump into his arms with the biggest apology the world has ever seen.
Francine leaves me to my thoughts on the elevator ride to the top floor. I stare straight ahead, not trusting myself to make eye contact with her. I don’t need her judgment or want her pity. And I definitely don’t want to be compelled to explain.
I open the conference room door and let Francine enter first. She breaks the ice with the suits, allowing me to duck behind her with a quick hello and an even quicker wave.
“Thank you for joining us,” Mr. Brevard says from his place at the head of the table. He’s a big guy with no muscle tone and soft hands—a discount version of Big Ed.
No, Gianna. Focus.
“Of course,” I say, relieved that my voice doesn’t crack. “I’m happy to be here.”
Mr. Johnson, Mr. Brevard’s sidekick for all I can gather, leans back in his chair, smoothing his tie down his chest. “Shall we get started?”
“We’re ready,” Francine says, side-eyeing me.
“Let’s go ahead,” Mr. Brevard says. “They said they might not make it.”
Before I can consider who they’re talking about, the door swings open. Mario enters, followed by Drake.
Our gazes collide, and I’m sure the others in the room can feel the zing. His eyes narrow as he takes me in with my swollen eyes and puffy lips. I tried to hide it with makeup, but clearly failed. Francine and Drake have both noticed.