Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“It’s fine.” I’m officially talking to myself out loud. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t know what’s in it. I just have to rip the band aid right off. I don’t mind pain, pain is fine, pain is life, it’s normal, it’s human.” I aggressively snatch the box off the table and jerk open the top.
Inside is a bottle of Prosecco, cheese, crackers, and a small note with an address. “We’re so excited to be celebrating this special day with you at Sagecrest Winery in beautiful George, Washington! If you simply scan the QR code, you can confirm your attendance along with your plus one. Accommodations will also be included in the link. Thank you for blessing this rare love.”
I nearly vomit.
Rare love.
Rare? Love?
With shaking hands, I shove the box away and lean back on the couch. I don’t know where it went wrong. Was it me settling? Was it me being blind to how he treated me?
And why am I blaming him when my sister was the one sleeping with him the entire time we were engaged? I saw the way she looked at him. It wasn’t even hero worship; it was pure need, like she wanted what I had—the shinier toy? I just thought that it was great they got along.
I had no clue they got along that well.
Better than he and I did.
Tears threaten.
Nope. I’m over it. Totally over it.
I rest my head in my hands and try to fight the memories of that night away, which makes me think of him even more—not the ex-fiancé. He’s not worth another thought.
No, I think about Killian. About stolen kisses in the dark, ice cream, laughing over wine, and the way he tasted. I think about how he held me when I cried again, and how he soothed my tears when I was silent with nothing but more kissing, touching.
He was.
Is.
He’s.
Everywhere now.
So famous that even with my parents’ money, I’m not so sure I could even be up to par. Imagine when Harry Styles left One Direction and went out on his own? That’s Killian right now. Sold out world tours. Women and men throwing themselves at him, interviews everywhere, number one Billboard album, all two months after we connected.
I have his number, but I’m sure he’s changed it by now.
There’s no way. Besides, I was like this rockstar charity case.
I kick the table again when Bruno trots into the living room with his leash.
Slowly, I get up and rub his face. “Is it time?”
He sits obediently while I grab the leash and attach it to his collar. I shove my cell into my pocket, grab some doggy bags and my keys, and walk him out of the apartment. Normally I jog, but today, today I’m calling my best friend and bitching.
He’s a man of God; he’ll be fine.
Post wedding, my ex Adrian checked in on me and come to find out he really is a priest and a great one at that, he still has that smoldering look about him which probably accounts for the fact that half of his attendance is always women, he still gets offers to model, and I swear one day we’re going to find out he secretly writes erotic novels, but whatever.
I put in my ear buds and call him once Bruno and I are on the street.
“You got it,” he says; he doesn’t even answer with a hi.
“What? Herpes? A million dollars? A high five? What did I get?” I grumble.
“Tell me you burned your own apartment down because you were so angry. I hope you took pictures because I’m working on my next sermon, and I really think that it would be beneficial to have visual imagery about sinning for the patrons.”
I glare at the space in front of me. “I hate you sometimes.”
“You love me, admit it.”
“Well, now that I know you’re a safe space.”
“I’m always safe, so? No burning? No cursing? Did you throw the box? But most importantly, did Chuck Norris live through the trauma?”
“Chuck Norris is fine, thank you very much, and I did open the box and I didn’t burn things down. I just thought of doing it. Damn, I’m so mad I could set you on fire right now!”
“I think it’s frowned upon to light a man of the cloth on fire, but if we’re in that sort of mood, then I’ll go with it.” He laughs. “Shit, I was so mad I pushed an old lady in the street and said, ‘What? What’s your game, bitch!’ And then I threw her groceries all over the ground only to stomp on the one solitary apple that rolled out all before taking a giant bite out of it and chucking it toward the homeless. I didn’t even say sorry. I’m a badass like that.”
I laugh. “Wow, call the cops. You threw an apple.”