Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“I was just so loaded with deadlines, projects, and upgrades. And you were all ‘meet the family!’” He mimics the happy excitement I had about that with disdain. “I figured some time would do us both good, ya know? And I didn’t want to take all the stress out on you. I needed a release valve from the pressure cooker at work. That’s all it was. You know how it is.” He smiles like that’s enough because that’s it, that’s all he’s got. That’s his apology, explanation, and justification. The sum total is worth less than the air he wasted to say them.
“You don’t have to apologize for what your so-called ‘stress’ did to you. But what you did to me? That was wrong. That’s what you should apologize for,” I tell him, calmly but firmly.
I’m not the same Janey he knew before.
I’m not the same person I was then.
I’ve grown stronger, changed for the better, and learned what it really means to have a partner stand at your side and at your back, even when things go to hell in a fiery handbasket.
He doesn’t say a word, only stammers senselessly, which definitely doesn’t resemble a true apology, so I keep going. “I’ll own that I let it go on too long, but you did too. You were more than happy to be hurtful, dismissive, and cruel to me. I learned from it. Have you? Or are you still the jerk you always were, out for yourself, no matter the cost to anyone else?”
“Wait a minute, it wasn’t all bad. We had some good times. If you’ve forgotten, I could remind you,” he says with a sleepy-eyed smile, dragging a fingertip around the rim of his coffee mug like that’s supposed to be sexy, even though I know he couldn’t find a clit with an anatomy drawing, a headlamp, and a tour guide.
“No. Hell. No.” I hold up both hands, giving him my palms in the universal ‘stop’ sign. I think I’m channeling Kayla as I do it, but it works now the way it worked for her.
Henry’s smile falters, and I think for the first time, he’s realizing that I’m not the forgiving, weak, scrap-accepting woman I used to be. I’m strong, powerful, and know my worth. And my new and improved expectations are astronomical and still being surpassed each and every day by one man.
Cole.
“Whatever. You look like shit. Your eyes are all bloodshot, your hair’s frizzy, and you smell like old people,” Henry accuses, despite his earlier claims to the contrary.
Truthfully, I saw myself in the bathroom mirror and I do look awful. Not that it matters because that has nothing to do with Henry’s bluster now. He’s lashing out, trying to hurt me again, and using the easiest weapon he can—my appearance—to put me down and make himself feel superior.
“That’s enough,” a gruff voice says behind me.
I smile, not needing to turn around. I knew Cole was listening from afar, letting me have my moment to shine and trusting that I could handle myself while keeping watch over me. I sink back into him, letting my back rest against his solid chest, and he places possessive hands on my shoulders.
“Who’s this?” Henry demands, sounding angry at the idea that I might have found someone else despite having been screwing around on me while we were actually together.
“My boyfriend,” I answer with a smirk. It’s never seemed sillier to describe Cole as a ‘boy’, but the look on Henry’s face at that reply is worth it. I laugh. “Did you think I was sitting around pining for you?”
I give him a look up and down, knowing that he’s already comparing himself to Cole and finding himself lacking. Not in the ways that truly matter, like heart and soul, but in the things Henry values—money, attractiveness, and dominance.
Yeah, Henry knows my trigger spots. But I know his too. I avoided them at all costs while we were together, no matter how many times he trampled over mine. But now? I feel free to say what I’ve thought so many times before. Ironically, for all the rambling I did, I somehow kept the truth tucked deep inside, filtering that from Henry.
“You made me weak because you liked feeling superior to me,” I say, and Henry starts to argue. I keep talking, taking some of the blame, “And I let you. But I’m better now. Not because Cole made me strong but because I did.” I pat myself on the chest proudly and then smile. “Bonus, he likes that because he can handle my best me. I’m happy now, for the first time ever.”
“You forgot to tell him how I worship your sexy body until you’ve come so many times, you pass out in my arms,” Cole stage-whispers in my ear, loud enough for Henry, and those close, to hear.