Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
I was never going to be the woman by his side. I would always remain the woman he chose to hide.
His priorities would always take precedence. He might ask me for my opinion or offer to listen to how I feel, but it was never going to really matter.
Rad is successful for a reason. Because he does what it takes to win—both inside and outside the courtroom.
And although he might’ve won my heart, I didn’t win his. And that hurts more than I ever even considered it might.
Rushing through the reception, I search for anyone to help me hold my heart together before it shatters across the dance floor.
I’m smacked in the chest by a bundle of flowers, causing my heart to leap from my body as petals fly everywhere. Reactively, I catch the bouquet before I realize what’s even happening. Cammie screams in delight. “Tealey! You caught the bouquet.” Pointing at me, she’s dancing to the song that just got turned up. “You’re next, baby!”
Cade steals a glance before he takes her hand and spins her around on the dance floor. That’s how it should be—make sure she’s happy. This should be the best day of her life. That means I need to leave. I need to get back to Manhattan and find someplace to hide until I can sort the truth from the lies.
Be brave, Tealey.
I can’t keep the burden of my pain away much longer. I start running, moving as fast as I can into the darkness of the lawn.
It’s not until I reach the side of the house that I fall against it, giving me time to catch my breath.
“Tealey?” Hearing my name has me standing stiff against the siding, praying not to be found. But the tears fall, sending rivulets streaming down my cheeks.
“Tealey, where are you?”
I catch my breath when I realize it’s not Rad but Jackson who’s calling after me. He comes around the corner and stops. No words. Just one look is exchanged between us, and then he opens his arms and holds me.
He doesn’t worry about me soaking his tux or that my makeup might ruin the collar of his shirt. He stands there with me wrapped in his arms and lets me cry until my tears begin stuttering and my eyes dry. I sag against the house again, and when I look into his sympathetic eyes, I say, “I need a favor.”
37
Tealey
My phone died near the same convenience store where Rad and I stopped last time. It’s the same place that holds fun memories of buying all the snacks to have variety . . . and because, typically, he didn’t allow eating in his precious baby. But he allowed me.
Why?
So much doesn’t make sense with him.
This time, I used the restroom to wash off the makeup that streaked down my face. I passed the jelly beans and left the Cheetos. I didn’t buy a bag of popcorn that made my stomach growl. I got back in the car, and a guy named Rod—the similarity not lost on me—drove me straight home.
Home.
That’s a luxury that I no longer have in Manhattan.
Leaning forward, I ask the driver, “Do you have a spare charger?”
“No. I need to use the map. That burns my battery, and I have a long night ahead.”
You’re telling me.
Filing through my memories, from the little moments Rad and I shared—hot dogs at midnight, stolen kisses in the Hamptons, and reading on the couch on Sundays—along with the bigger events from moving day to making love for the first time, I still can’t make sense of how I ended up with a guy named Rod driving me home instead of Rad.
Maybe one day, I’ll have the hindsight of learning the lesson this relationship was meant to teach me. I just hope my heart won’t still be so broken by then.
Leaning my head against the window, I have nothing but miles and time ahead. I stare in the inky night until my eyelids grow as weary as my battered heart. And then close altogether.
“Miss.”
I sigh and then yawn. Opening my eyes, I bolt upright. “Where am I?”
“Home,” Rod says, pointing out the passenger window.
I look, and for a split second, I could feel my soul come alive again—the warmth and comfort, the excitement of the adventure ahead, falling asleep with Rad, and waking up with him. For a split second, I feel wonderful.
And then the feeling vanishes before I have a chance to cling to the memories.
I get out from the back seat. The driver pulls away before I have a chance to thank him, so when it’s me and the building, I take a deep breath and move a few steps closer. I look up, never paying much attention to the other tenants. It always felt like mine and Rad’s. I naïvely started to believe that Poughkeepsie wasn’t my destiny.