Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“You should be doing more. This isn’t doing more,” he snaps. “I want my money, Sailor.”
Walking to my bag, I grab the apartment keys and hand them to him. “Have it. It’s yours. Sell it, keep it, I don’t fucking care.”
Keir pushes the keys back to me. “You sell it. And I want the money … in cash. Do not fuck this up.”
“Is that all you came here for? To try and scare me?”
“Did it work?” he asks, one brow raised.
“No, because looking at you makes me want to throw up.”
“Good.” Keir turns and leaves, and I shut and lock the door behind him.
“How could you talk to him, let him in?” Ellie yells at me, dropping the coffee cup onto the floor and making a damn mess. Shit. Ignoring her outburst, I go straight into the kitchen to find the real estate lady’s number and call her for an update and to let her know it’s all to be changed to my name. Most importantly, that the apartment needs to sell as soon as possible. Actually, urgently. She agrees and tells me she will get potential buyers through the home in the next few days.
Days.
Well damn! I hope that’s soon enough.
“You need to get out of apartment.” Ellie’s tears have stopped, and her hands are on her hips.
“What?” I ask, clearly thinking she must have said something else.
“Leave. Our. House.”
“You know this apartment is in my name, not yours, right?”
“You were divorcing him,” she yells.
“If you want to stay here, I would change that tune. You have a week to find somewhere else to live,” I tell her as I go through my phone, answering messages and emails from my clients. I’ve been so checked out this last week that the only excuse I could use is that my husband has passed away. It’s technically true, but they don’t need to know the full story. They offered to give me the next week off paid, so I take it.
How do you grieve someone who said they no longer love you or maybe never loved you?
Should I be grieving the way Ellie is?
“How long did you know Dillan?” I ask.
“Three months.”
Wow, compared to my years, it seems like a minute amount of time. But he moved just as fast with me. Put that ring on my finger and married me. I shouldn’t really expect anything different from him, should I?
“Dillan was so mad at you.”
I turn to look at her and she’s biting her nails, her tears now drying up.
“He came here a few days ago.”
“Who?” I ask.
She points to the door where Keir just exited.
“Keir?”
She nods. “He came here to gloat.”
I stare at her, confused. “Gloat about what?”
“That he was fucking you.” Oh, my god. “And he asked why he let you go.”
“What did Dillan say?”
She shrugs and bites her nails again before she answers, “That you were a shit lay and he had already moved on to me.” Of course, he did. “Keir was angry at that response and told him that Dillan didn’t know how to fuck you right. Then he left.” She bites another nail. What the hell? “I have nowhere to go,” she says as I stand there speechless. “Let me stay with you.”
“I’ll have nowhere to go once this apartment sells either. Do you realize that? And it’s all thanks to Dillan.”
Her head drops and she starts crying again.
I can’t fucking deal with this shit.
I head to my bedroom, and lock myself in the bathroom …
… and cry.
The realtor calls me the next day and asks that we leave the apartment so she can bring her clients over to show them around. I didn’t see Ellie for the rest of the day yesterday because I stayed upstairs, changed the bedsheets, and passed out.
As I walk down the stairs, she’s on the couch with the television on but not really watching it.
“We have to go out for a little while.”
Her red-rimmed eyes raise at the sound of my voice. I wonder if mine look the same from all the crying I did last night.
“I don’t want to.”
Dealing with a child today is not something I want to do.
I have no damn patience today.
“Get up and get out.”
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“Looking for rentals,” I reply.
“Okay, I’ll come with you.” Of course.
As we step outside, my phone starts ringing. When I pull it out of my bag and see the phone flashing with ‘Mother,’ I hesitate to answer. Do I want to tell her my life is not perfect anymore? That I’ve lied to her for an incredibly long time? Nope, so I don’t answer.
“Hey, someone is following us,” Ellie whispers.
We’re walking along the busy street in New York so I’m sure many people are walking in the same direction as we are. I simply nod as I contemplate answering the phone when it rings again. I mean, how do I even tell her what happened to Dillan? It’s not really something you can just explain. In the end, I have no choice but to answer as she won’t give up unless I do.