Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
(Max)
Leaning back in my seat, I hooked my foot around the leg of Paige’s chair and pulled her closer, so she was situated between my spread thighs. “What happened with you and Stuart?”
She blinked, pausing in chewing her pizza.
Well it could be said that my question had come out of left-field. Especially since we’d just been pondering over whether the colour orange was named because of the colour of the fruit or vice versa. But while Stuart had convinced me earlier that he wasn’t holding a candle for Paige, I couldn’t help wondering whether that went both ways.
“You don’t know?” she asked, crossing one bare leg over the other. At my request, she was wearing only my tee, which hit her mid-thigh.
“I know the basics. I know you dated for a short time. I know that you being so independent bothered him. Or, more specifically, that it hurt his pride that you didn’t need him. But I don’t know your side of the story.”
She shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. Stuart’s a pretty likeable guy. Very different from the assholes in my past. I’d hoped it would go somewhere. But he likes to be needed. Which is fine, but I don’t need or want someone to be my rock. I depend on me, and I like it that way. I’ve always been highly independent—it’s just part of my nature. But he wanted me to change, to tone down my self-reliance. That wasn’t going to happen, so I broke things off.”
“He was pissed. Said some pretty shitty stuff about you.” I watched her face carefully, searching for any signs of hurt. There were none.
“I know, I heard. He later apologised to me. It was easy enough to forgive him and move on, because … well, I liked him, but I hadn’t cared about him, so his snarky comments hadn’t really bothered me all that much.”
And my system took a long, relieved breath. Which was ridiculous, because I shouldn’t give that much of a shit one way or the other.
Sipping her cola-flavoured NST, she eyed me curiously. “You’re pretty self-reliant yourself. To the point of pushing other people away, actually.”
I instinctively bristled, feeling defensive, but nonetheless admitted, “I suppose I am.”
“Have you always been that way?”
I went to blow off the question. It was a reflex since, in my experience, ‘sharing’ with a woman gave her the wrong idea, and I didn’t like to mislead people. But, as I’d told Stuart, Paige knew where we both stood. She wouldn’t read anything into it. Plus, well, I wanted her to know me better—an urge I didn’t bother to question, because I probably wouldn’t like the answer.
“No,” I replied. “It’s sort of a by-product of my upbringing. Not that I had neglectful parents. They were great.” I took another bite of my pizza. “I was an army brat, so we travelled a lot. I’d lived in fourteen different places and attended eleven schools before graduating.”
Her eyes went wide. “Wow.”
“I don’t wish my childhood had been different. I got to see so many places, and I wouldn’t trade a single minute of it. But it had it’s bad points. I was always the new kid and couldn’t really form lasting friendships. It’s also hard to leave friends behind over and over, so after a while you stop truly connecting with people. You keep your friendships and relationships shallow. It just makes things easier.”
She twisted her mouth. “And that childhood survival habit sort of followed you into adulthood?”
“Something like that.” I tilted my head. “What was your childhood like?”
“Normal. Utterly normal. Doctors for parents. One sibling, who’s now also a doctor. Though I got the feeling Serena only followed in their footsteps because they pressured her to. Imani reminds me of her a little. Her parents were just as opinionated about how their children’s futures should go. But whereas Imani went her own way, Serena broke her back trying to make our parents proud. She grew to believe it was what she wanted too. She may even still believe it.”
“Did they pile that same pressure on you?”
“No. They let me be. As a kid, I thought it meant they didn’t care. But as I got older, I came to realise they felt that they’d made a mistake in trying to dictate my sister’s future—it had pushed her away. They didn’t want to do the same to me.”
Having finished my slice of pizza, I grabbed my beer-flavoured NST. “Were you close to your sister?”
“No. We’re just so different, and there’s a huge age gap between us, so we never connected. I was a surprise baby, you see. She was sixteen when I was born.” Paige let out a wistful sigh. “I would have liked it if we had been close. But she didn’t make time for anyone, let alone me. She put her job before everything and everyone, including herself. After our parents died, she pretty much buried herself in her work.”