Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“No. You’re just one to add insult to injury any chance you get.”
“You would know,” he says, leaning against the island. “You know the old saying, if the shoe fits.”
“Stop saying that—”
“Where’s the lie?”
I start toward him but stop myself from falling down this hole with him. Going tit for tat was never what I wanted. I get my bags and start again for the door. “I hope you feel better.”
“So much better.” He smirks, but it’s neither sexy nor cute. It’s too arrogant for that. Seems that, and money, is all he needs.
Relinquishing any power I won in that round, I reply, “You think you’re protecting yourself, that cutting me out of your life will give you back the life you once had, but you weren’t happy. You never will be until you realize that losing me won’t make you whole. Sure, me and all the lies we built our relationship on will be out of sight, but they’ll never be out of mind because I reached the one thing you didn’t even know you had. A heart. And what becomes of that when there’s no one left to tend to it?” I can be indignant all I want, but on the other side of that coin lies what hurts me most—losing him.
So I walk toward that door, trying so desperately to hold myself together until I can break down in private, well aware that losing him was never about losing access to his world despite what he thinks or insinuates. I never needed expensive dresses or invites to balls or events at The Met, or to attend weddings at the Plaza, for that matter. I was content with hot dogs on the street, Sunday dinners with my family, and falling asleep in his arms like I was his and he was mine, in spite of knowing it would only last a short time.
While he lets his heart disappear, I walk away from him, knowing mine will no longer be intact either. How could it be when the beats I felt were his all along?
“You gave up on me when I was still holding out hope. All I wanted was the person I was given a glimpse of the night at dinner with your family. That was the real you that the lies couldn’t disguise. Where did she go?”
With my toes facing the final door of this obstacle, I look back over my shoulder. “You never really let me in. So you win, Warner. You have this penthouse all to yourself again.”
He opens the door for me, though I’m certain it’s not from chivalry. As soon as I step into the hall, he slams it closed. The latching of the bolts is the final blow. I’m no longer welcome here.
I no longer have Warner.
He’s right because he lost me, but I also lost myself along the way.
Cutting through the lobby, Keith stands when he sees me. His eyes dart to the bags I’m carrying, and then he asks, “Going on a trip, Mrs. Landers?”
“Going home.” He holds the door open for me, and when I walk out into the June night air, I say, “Keith, it’s Bayetti. My name is Delaney Bayetti.”
The empathy in his smile makes my heart clench, like he saw through me the whole time. “That’s a pretty name, Ms. Bayetti.” I’d tell him to call me Delaney, but we know we won’t be seeing each other again.
“Thank you. Take care, okay?”
He tips his hat before I turn and head for the nearest train station. Despite the fight I had upstairs, I can still appreciate how nice this neighborhood is. It has a charm about it, but maybe it’s too pristine for someone like me, someone who needs to feel the pulse of the city. Two blocks down, I can just make out his building, but the penthouse is too far above me to see.
This is it.
The tension in my body begins to alleviate, breathing coming easier as if I’d been holding it since the moment we met. But as soon as I hop on the train, those tears I held back at his apartment fall carelessly from the corners of my eyes. The emotion of the day is finally hitting a tipping point that I can no longer balance. I need to finally admit the truth. It’s not the emotion. It’s the loss of Warner that hits hardest.
Trying my best to swipe the running mascara from under my eyes, I stop outside the restaurant, catching sight of my mom through the window. She’s bustling through tables with plates in her hands and a big smile on her face while my dad laughs with a group of men seated in the corner booth. He glides to the next, sharing his joy, like he always did with us kids, ensuring everyone who dines at the restaurant feels at home.