Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Okay.”
The single word hangs in the air, heavy and final, and I stand, signaling the end of the conversation. I don’t give her a chance to linger. “You have thirty minutes. Don’t make me wait a second longer.”
With that, I turn and walk away, a gnawing ache in my chest, each step pulling me further away from her.
CHAPTER 23
RAVEN
I stare at the open closet, almost dizzy with disbelief. Is he planning to take me shopping? The old Earl never cared for clothes. Just like me. I have no real interest in clothes and I’m not even a shopping kind of girl. All I ever wanted to do was write and build my life with Earl. I thought he knew that, but I guess this is another sick game he wants to play to torment me. I have no choice but to play along.
The hangers clink together as I push them aside. A simple cream dress catches my eye. It is everything this situation isn’t. I hesitate before pulling it off the rack. It’s a strange kind of rebellion—choosing something so unassuming and dull when I know he expects me to dress to impress. Let him be annoyed. Let him hate it. Let him hate me. I have no energy left for anything else.
When I slip it on and glance at my reflection again. I look... ordinary. The realization makes me wonder why he came back for me. He could have had any beauty from wherever he had disappeared to all these years. Was it just all revenge and hate for whatever he imagines I have done to him … or is there something more?
I slip on a pair of comfortable flats and hurry out of the room. The sharp, impatient blare of the car horn echoes through the house. He’s already annoyed. Good.
The rain from last night has left the ground damp and the air thick with the scent of wet earth as I walk unhurriedly toward the car. He’s seated in the driver’s seat, his leather jacket gleaming under the overcast sky. He looks effortlessly good—too good—and I hate myself for noticing.
Sliding into the passenger seat, I make a point not to look at him, though I can feel his gaze on me. The engine hums as he pulls away from the house, the silence between us heavy.
We’re not shopping locally it would seem as the town passes by in a blur of color and bustle. I guess we must be heading to the mall in the next town two hours away. He doesn’t speak and neither do I. About half an hour later his phone rings and he talks on the speaker with someone called Olivia about some property he is acquiring. I notice he is friendly and almost flirtatious and that makes my stomach tighten with jealousy.
I turn my head away and look out at the countryside. The call ends and still he says nothing. My thoughts drift, unbidden, to the department store we’re headed to. The last time we were there together was so long ago it feels like another lifetime.
Back then, it was never for shopping. We went on Earl’s motorbike to eat slices of Mario’s extra-large, thick-crust pepperoni pizza and share ice cream sundaes like they were delicacies. I didn’t care about the high-end brands lining the food halls, and neither did he. It was simple. It was us.
The last time we were there it was my birthday. Earl and I were sitting in one of the rickety booths near the edge. The smell of fried food and the distant hum of chatter filled the air, mixing with the faint sounds of people talking and the clatter of trays. Then Charles showed up, flanked by his usual crowd of loud, arrogant friends. I noticed them before they noticed us, their expensive sneakers and designer gear making them stand out from the casual crowd. Charles's laugh carried across the space. He always behaved as if he owned whatever space he was in.
When he spotted us, his eyes changed into that familiar, predatory gleam. He hated Earl. Hands stuffed casually into his trouser pockets, and his friends trailing behind him like a pack of hyenas, he sauntered over. Earl stiffened beside me, his hand tightening around the flimsy plastic spoon he was holding. I could feel the tension radiating off him. His jaw was clenched tight by the time Charles’s shadow loomed over our table.
“Well, well, Raven,” Charles drawled, his smile dripping with false charm. “Celebrating your birthday in style with pizza and ice cream, I see. Really? Is that the best your greasy boyfriend could do?” He let his gaze slide over to Earl, his eyes assessing, mocking. Then he shook his head with disgust. “What a loser.”
The flimsy plastic spoon snapped in half, but Earl didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look up, but I could see the way his knuckles whitened. Charles leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that was loud enough for everyone to hear. “You know, if you were with me, I’d show you what a real birthday looks like. I’d take you somewhere special. Buy you a meal fit for a princess because that’s what you are. A right princess.”