Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 105667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I almost release a sob when I finally see her. Safe. Her back is to me, and she’s leaning against a car, talking to him.
Saint spots me first.
He stands up straight, pulling his weight off the car he was pressed against. Nora spins around, and she flashes her usual smile, but she also looks like I just caught her flirting with a married man.
He isn’t married, honey. Far from it.
“You done already?” Nora asks. Her voice is cheerful, but also . . . rushed. She’s walking toward me like she wants to escort me inside and not even introduce me to her new friend.
Saint’s jaw is tense as he stares straight into me. Nora sees me clocking Saint, so she pauses her steps and stands awkwardly, feet from me and feet from him. She shoves her hands in her pockets. It makes her look . . . guilty.
Saint suddenly looks guilty too.
Why do both of them look like they have something to hide from me? Has something already happened between them? Am I too late?
I walk closer to them, hesitant. “What is this?” I ask, my eyes trading glances with each of them, waiting for one of them to speak.
Saint and Nora glance at each other with a look that indicates they share a secret.
My head is spinning. “Do you know him?” I ask her. Then my attention lands on him. “Stay away from her.”
“Petra,” Nora says, sounding shocked by my anger.
I don’t give her time to make it seem like I’m overreacting. She has no idea what he’s capable of, or that, if anything, I’m underreacting. “Stay away from her,” I say to him again.
He lifts both hands in a peaceful gesture and takes a step back.
“Petra,” Nora says again. “Why are you being like this?”
“He’s lying to you about who he is. Do not trust him. Whatever he says, he’s lying.”
Nora doesn’t react like I expect her to. Instead, she and Saint share another knowing look, but this one is chock full of shame. She folds her arms over her chest and looks down at the pavement.
I wait for one of them to elaborate, but neither of them does. Nora eventually peers up at me with eyes that hold a level of betrayal like I’ve never seen in another human.
“Eric is an old friend of mine.”
The words sound like echoes reverberating around in my heart. He’s . . . what?
It’s as if my world turns gray. All the possibilities of what that could even mean are slamming into me from every direction.
“Petra,” Saint says, attempting to reassure me. Or Eric. Whoever the fuck he is steps forward, but I hold up a hand.
“Don’t come near me,” I say to him. Then to her, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Nora sighs, and then glances toward the bookstore behind me. People are lingering, but not close enough to hear our conversation.
She lowers her voice almost to a whisper. “You were stuck, Petra. I was trying to help.” Her voice is a plea for forgiveness, but I’m still not sure what she’s done that requires my forgiveness.
How is Nora, my best friend in the whole fucking world, involved in what happened between me and Saint?
She continues by saying, “Eric and I . . .” She waves a hand at him. “After my live video with you ended that night, we were chatting online. We joked about how it would be nice if he could help get you out of your slump. And you seemed so desperate for inspiration.”
I cannot believe what I’m hearing.
Every feeling and emotion I went through when I thought this was merely Saint’s idea is amplified. I can feel the tears stinging my eyes.
“This isn’t true,” I say with a twinge of hope. “You’re joking, right? If you know him, why have you never mentioned him?”
“I haven’t seen him since college,” she says. “We’ve been friends online since then. You don’t know every single person in my life.” She sounds defensive, but I’m the only one here with any reason to feel defensive. Or angry. Or betrayed.
The two of them should feel nothing but sheer and utter shame.
“But . . .” I can’t fathom it. Nora . . . Saint. Both of them? “You’re my best friend,” I say, stepping closer. “If what you’re saying is true, that you sent your friend to inspire me, you knowingly put my marriage at risk! You put me at risk!”
Nora’s expression loses some of the guilt in exchange for confusion. She glances at Saint, and then back at me. “I don’t think I did,” she says. “All I did was ask him to show up in uniform and knock on your door so you could put a face to your character.” She shakes her head, looking between us. “He agreed to ask you a question and then leave. Did . . .” Her eyes land hard on Saint. “Did something else happen?” She’s finally beginning to sound concerned for me, rather than concerned about being caught.