Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Jesus.” I thread my fingers through her hair and hold her tightly, as if I can somehow protect her from what he did all those years ago. I’d guessed it was bad, and if no one around her could see him for what he was, she must have felt trapped.
“He took control of my life inch by inch, and by the time I tried to take it back, it was too late. My friends turned on me. My family begged me to be reasonable. I got my locks changed and started going out again—bringing men home to spite him. I told Rich I didn’t care if everyone thought I was the biggest bitch in the world. We weren’t together and never would be.”
I kiss the top of her head. “That must have been awful.”
“I thought since I’d finally put my foot down, that would be it. I was an idiot. I should have done it weeks sooner. One night I came home from work—my house with its new locks that were totally going to keep me safe—and he was there. ‘You think you can lock me out?’ he asked, and when I threatened to call the police, he laughed in my face. He was the police. Everyone he worked with saw how crazy I’d become after losing Heath, and who were they going to believe?” She pauses for a long time, as if she needs to catch her breath. “Then he told me to pack my things. He couldn’t trust me living on my own anymore, and he’d talked to my parents about how I’d been sleeping around, and they agreed that I needed help. That I was self-destructing.”
“Your parents listened to him?”
She shrugs. “That’s just it. Rich’s manipulations were so good because he didn’t need to outright lie. I was sleeping around. I was drinking a lot. I was dealing with my own grief through all of this, but my parents are old-fashioned. They didn’t see Rich as a controlling narcissist. They saw him as the good guy who was trying to save me from myself. He’d manipulated them so completely that I couldn’t go to them for help. My friends didn’t trust me because of the poison he’d whispered into their ears. And he was a police officer, so I didn’t feel like I could call the cops either.”
“So you moved.”
She nods and slowly sits up again, returning to straddling my waist and tracing the muscles of my torso. “I didn’t just move. I ran. And until I saw him at Jackson Brews last year, I thought he’d finally let me go.” She trails her gaze up my chest and finally meets my eyes. “But you were there, and you understood I needed you. You have no idea how much that meant to me.”
I want to be there every time she needs me, but I’m not sure if she’s ready for that yet. I sit up, pulling her body flush with mine. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I cup her face in my hand and kiss her slowly.
“Don’t let him get to you,” she says against my mouth. “I don’t know what I’d do if he got in your head the way he’s gotten in everyone else’s.”
“I don’t like the guy, and I don’t trust him. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“But I do.” She studies my face, and I know we’re not talking about Rich anymore. “I’m so worried about you.”
“I’m fine.” I thread my fingers through her hair and guide her mouth back to mine. “In fact, with you right here, I’m fucking fantastic.”
Teagan
“I guess we pushed the Mehndi party back for nothing.” Saanvi tosses her phone on the bed and frowns. “Sabrina missed her red-eye, and she’s not going to be here until dinner.”
Mom frowns, and I can tell she wants to rant about my cousin breaking too many promises, and maybe even give Saanvi a lecture about how she told her Sabrina shouldn’t be a bridesmaid for this very reason. Our original schedule had us getting the traditional henna designs on our hands and feet yesterday, but Sabrina needed to stay at home another day for a story about some famous parrot, which was adopted by a country music couple, so we pushed it back.
Instead of giving her an “I told you so,” Mom lifts her chin and shrugs. “Her loss.”
We’re all gathering in Saanvi’s suite for her Mehndi party. My second cousin on my Dad’s side, Pari, is a henna artist, and she’ll use a special paste to paint designs on the hands and feet of the bridal party. Well, everyone except Sabrina, it seems.
“I’m sure she’s sorry,” I say lamely. I don’t really mean it. Sabrina’s pretty self-centered and wouldn’t show up on time to meet the Pope if there was nothing in it for her.