Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“No, I’m good, but thanks.”
“Alrighty then. Let’s see what you got.”
Who knows how many hours passed before Jacob finally shut up and suggested lunch. “Normally, the team just grabs food from the cafeteria. You cool with that?” he asks. Noah walks up with the sales analyst training him. “Great timing. You guys ready?”
The last thing I want to do is go to the cafeteria—especially with Noah. But with no real way out, I plaster on a cheeky smile and nod. “Sounds great.”
Jacob and Katie, Noah’s training specialist, walk ahead, caught up in their own conversation. I trail behind, completely exposed to Noah’s inevitable approach.
His presence is immediate, his voice low as he steps beside me. “How’s it going over there?”
I don’t answer.
He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Look… about this morning. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”
“You always mean what you say, Noah.”
“Well, yeah, I’m pissed. You fucking blindsided me. How the hell do you think I’m supposed to react?”
“I don’t know, not go out and get laid just to throw it in my face?”
“What, are you jealous?”
I scoff at his ridiculous notion that I give a shit. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I told you, I’m sorry. I don’t wanna do this with you. What I said this morning was wrong. I don’t want you to leave.”
I stop, spinning to face him. “But you don’t want me to be here either.”
He throws his hands up. “What do you want me to say? You fucking broke up with me, George.”
“Here we are,” Jacob interjects. “Grab a tray. The food’s not bad. We’ll meet you two at the back table to the left, cool?” I nod and grab a tray, then move through the line quickly so Noah doesn’t have a chance to finish our conversation. I pile some salad and croutons on a plate, grab a packet of ranch, and head to the checkout.
“You can’t ignore me, George.”
“I’m not ignoring you. I’m choosing not to fight with you.”
“I don’t want to fight. I hate this shit.”
“Yeah, says the hickey on your neck.” I’m going to hell. I sucked his father off in his shower, and I’m making a thing out of his tramp-stamp. I’m not jealous. Knowing Noah had sex with someone last night doesn’t bother me. What bothers me is he doesn’t know how to control his emotions. There will be another girl in my place, and I have no doubt that relationship will end the same way ours did if he doesn’t get himself together.
As soon as we sit at the table, the questions start.
“How’d you two meet?” Katie asks.
Noah and I stare at each other. I open my mouth, but he speaks first. “College.”
“Cute.” Katie grins, and Jacob jumps in, “How long have you been together?”
I shift uncomfortably in my chair. “Um…”
“Ten months,” Noah answers smoothly, flashing me a smile. “Ten crazy months, right, George?”
I fake a smile. “Yeah.” I shove a forkful of salad into my mouth, hoping it will keep any more questions at bay.
My phone vibrates on the table, and relief floods through me—an easy excuse to step away. But when I glance at the screen, my stomach tightens.
Mom.
My lips press into a thin line. So much for an easy escape.
“You going to finally talk to her?” Noah asks, startling me. I hadn’t realized he was so close, spying over my shoulder.
My eyes lift to meet his. “Huh? Um… no.” I swipe to decline.
“Babe, maybe you should just talk to her—”
“And maybe you shouldn’t involve yourself in my business…” My words taper off as what I said dawns on me. Kate and Jacob pause in their conversation, both staring at us. Fuck. “Sorry. I…” I manage a strained smile. “Parents. Always so naggy.” I grab my tray and stand. “I’m going to the bathroom. Meet you all back upstairs?”
Noah nods, clearly unhappy I’m leaving, but he doesn’t say anything.
I weave through the cafeteria and head straight for the nearest bathroom, locking myself in a stall. My phone buzzes again.
Mom.
I haven’t spoken to her in months, and even then, it was brief—just long enough for her to tell me Lettie had gotten hurt at school. She hadn’t called to check on me, hadn’t cared about the silence between us. And now, all of a sudden, she wants to talk?
I stare at the screen, my grip tightening. I already know what she’ll say—more lies, more excuses. Reasons why she let a man who wasn’t our father rip our lives apart. I was done listening to them.
He loves us. He has good intentions. It wasn’t on purpose.
Bullshit.
Instead of mourning her husband, she opened the door and let a monster in. No mother who truly loved her children would do that.
I shake my head, declining the call, then shove my phone into my pocket and head back to work.