Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
“Have you spoken to him?” Dad asks, taking a seat on the couch in the kitchen and placing a bag I didn’t notice before now on the cushion next to him.
“No, we have nothing to talk about.” I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest.
“He told me he’s called you,” Mom says with a sigh that grates against my nerves. “He’s worried about you.”
“I doubt that. From what our mutual acquaintances have said, he’s dating and living his best life.”
“He’s a single man. You can’t fault him for dating.”
“Mom, I don’t care what he does.” I try to keep my tone neutral, when all I want to do is scream.
“Of course you care. You loved him.”
I didn’t… I don’t even think I know what love is. Every relationship I’ve had in my life has been toxic and filled with stipulations. Do this and I’ll love you. Act like this and I’ll love you. Buy me this and I’ll love you. No one has ever just loved me for me, loved me despite my faults and weaknesses.
“Beatrice, you need to let that go. She and Josh will get back together if they are meant to be, but not before that,” Dad says, and I want to ask him if he thinks he and Mom are meant to be, even after all the times Mom has explored relationships with other men both sexually and emotionally during their thirty-something-year marriage.
“At least tell me that you’re still planning on coming to our end of summer party, even with Josh being there.”
Oh God, how could I forget their party? A party that has happened every year since I can remember. A party my ex insisted we attend while we were together. And a party that of course my mom would invite him to, even now that we’re divorced. “I’m not sure. It depends on my deadlines.” I lie since at this moment I don’t have any.
“It’s one night. I’m sure you can find a way to make it work.” She glances down at her watch then looks around. “Now, show us around. Your dad and I have dinner plans with friends.”
After biting back a curse, I show her and my dad around the house and vow to order some sage tomorrow to rid the space of their vibes.
Chapter 5
Tide
WALKING INTO THE Rusty Rose, I head right for the bar, needing a beer and to clear my head after what went down with Aria. Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck happened. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did when she told me I should leave. She obviously wasn’t happy about her parents being at her place, but it didn’t change the fact that I was pissed and let it show.
Growing up here, I’ve known the Spencer’s my whole life, and they have never hesitated to judge or belittle any and everyone they come across. I’m sure Aria was trying to save me from being in their presence, but in that moment, it felt like she was embarrassed to be seen with me. The worst part is, it shouldn’t have fucking mattered if she was embarrassed; she’s not my girl. We don’t really know each other. I’m working on her house, nothing else—at least that’s what I keep telling myself.
“What’s up, man?” Colton bumps his fist against mine as I take a seat on the stool across the bar from him. “I thought you said you were working tonight.”
“That was the plan, then shit got fucked up.” Or I fucked shit up, I think, watching as he twists the top off a beer before handing it to me.
“Fucked up how?” He leans against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest and studying me.
“Do you remember Aria Spencer?”
“From high school?” He frowns.
“Yeah.” I take a pull from my beer. “She just moved back. I’ve been doing some work at her place.”
His head tips to the side as his brows drag together. “I thought she was living in San Francisco with her husband, or at least that’s what her dad said the last time he sat right where you are now.”
“She got divorced and bought a place not far from you.”
“I guess that makes sense. Her parents are here in town.” He shrugs, then looks down the bar when someone calls his name. “Give me a minute.” He walks off to fill a drink order, and I pull my cell out of my pocket when it buzzes. When I see a message from my ex, I sigh and open it up. Not surprising, she’s asking for money, claiming that our daughter Olivia needs new shoes and clothes, which she actually doesn’t, since the last time I had her for a week I loaded her up. I’m sure she needs cash to get her hair or nails done, or some other bullshit.