Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
While it was nice to get away and stay in the massive mansion a couple of hours from the city, it’s so obvious that Roman was hiding me. Never fully letting me matter in his life or acting like I could belong in it.
Good.
I smirk to myself.
Makes it easier to cut all ties now.
That’s what I’m after, severing the last tie to him. Collecting this notebook and the couple items of clothing I left from that short stay means grabbing the last things he could hold over me or use as a bribe to get me talking to him again. He’s been trying already.
Yesterday, he left me a voicemail saying that he wouldn’t give me the last of my mail unless I came to my senses and talked to him. “Because you have no right to walk out on me.”
That’s the sticking point with him. The audacity that someone would reject him. That I could dare to end things with him and not let him dictate how our lives should be.
The mail he’s trying to use as leverage is just junk, thank God, because everything that matters is paperless and digital now. Still, it got me thinking about what else he could hold over my head and be an ass about. The clothes at this upstate mansion could be replaced, but the notebook with the planning details I’ve started putting together for the bakery is too important to lose or reproduce.
Not even five minutes after I end the call with Jenni, the snow falls thicker.
I speed up the wiper blades and sigh, hating that I have to do the drastic thing of heading all the way out here for that notebook because I can’t count on Roman to be decent.
“Decent?” I mutter to myself with a harsh laugh.
He’s lost the definition of decency. He’s been an asshole, taunting me and blowing up my phone with nasty texts to remind me I’m too fat and simple to land anyone else, with voicemails threatening that I’ll regret treating him like this, and even emails listing how he’s somehow the victim here and no one can fault him for deciding to open up the relationship and sleep with Maeve.
Thinking about it again, dwelling on all the high emotions I’ve been riding since I walked in on him with Maeve a week ago, I know I’m letting it—and him—get to me. My blood pressure spikes, my pulse hammers, and my knuckles go white on the wheel before I even realize I’m gripping it. That’s all it takes. One thought of Roman rattling around in my head and I’m fuming, jacked on adrenaline, ready to fight him out of my own mind.
“No one’s ever going to love you.”
“You’re worthless. An embarrassment.”
“You should be lucky I ever gave you a second of my time, you frigid bitch.”
I press my lips together as the litany of his hateful words replay in a loop in my mind.
Growling at the tension he can still invoke in me, I reach out to turn on the radio. Anything to drown out the replays of his words in my head.
My phone rings, and I mute the radio before answering, since it’s Jenni.
“Hey, just a thought,” she says.
“What?” We’ve been talking so much while I’ve been crashing at her place. About Roman. About the bakery. She’s one of our most loyal employees as well as my friend and she’s been trying to help me figure out a way to save the business.
“You didn’t tell Roman that you’re going to pick up your things, did you?” she asks.
“No. Hell no.” I shake my head. He’s been blowing up my phone, but it’s all passive. I haven’t answered or replied to anything so far. “I haven’t talked to him all week.”
“Okay. Good. Because I got worried for a second. Like, what if he’s waiting for you at that house and decides to be an asshole and, well. You know.”
“I know,” I reply. “Roman doesn’t even know that I left anything at the house. The staff will let me in to get my shit. Seriously, I’m just going there and coming right back. Then we can go over those notes about the delivery service idea I have.”
“Good. I’m sure this is just what we need to get ahead again,” she says. “Careful driving!”
We end the call and I sigh as I squint to see through the window better. I like walking and using public transportation in the city, but driving out of it is nice too.
When I can see.
And when the roads aren’t this slick…
As I focus on the drive, a faint doubt creeps in that this might not be a good idea after all. Not going to get my things, but going now, as the sky darkens and the storm closes in.
Being alone and having the autopilot freedom to think and just be is good for me though. Because as I speed by, I am confident this is it. This is the last time I’ll ever have anything to do with a Sokolov again. It’s the clean cut that I need.