Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Turned off your alarm. You worked out enough last night. I’ll call you later.
N
I get out of bed and call Erika first. “Good morning,” she answers, and I know she’s at her desk.
“Sorry, I had an early call this morning,” I lie, walking over to my clothes in the middle of the bedroom. “I’ll be in a bit later.”
“No worries,” she says, and I get dressed. I walk over and fix his bed, not knowing if he has a cleaning lady coming in or not.
I walk out of the house, trying not to think about last night too much. It was a quiet one. I know he had something on his mind because I felt it the whole way during dinner.
I felt it every single time he reached for me, but I gave him whatever he wanted. I make it to my house and get into the shower, then decide I’m going to just work from home. The day is slow and quiet, and when I go to bed, it’s without a word or a text from him. I wake up a couple of times during the night and check my phone to see if he called. There is nothing there, not even a text, so I end up tossing and turning most of the night.
When my alarm rings the next day, I reach over and turn it off. I slip into my gym stuff, grabbing a bottle of water on my way to the gym. I get on the treadmill, taking the remote out.
I press the power button as the sound fills the room. SportsCenter shows the highlights of the game last night. They start talking about the game and how they won in overtime. A screen shot shows Nico putting his hand in a fist, celebrating when they win. I smile, thinking about how much I miss seeing him.
Then it happens so quickly I don’t know it’s actually happening.
“Well, the Oilers won the game on the same night their owner secretly got married.” I almost fall and smash my face when my head snaps back so fast. The sound of the remote falling out of my hand and onto the treadmill smashing into the wall behind me. It’s the same sound my heart makes.
This is not happening. My heart starts to beat so fast it echoes in my ears like a herd of bulls charging down the streets of Spain. I rewind the show and listen to it again. The words replay over and over again as I run out of my exercise room toward my computer in my home office. It takes a minute to open, but in that time, I feel like I’m going to throw up. I start pacing back and forth and when the screen saver comes on, my hands shake so bad I can’t type in the words that I’m going to google.
Nico Harrison is married. I press enter, the first search coming up is Page Six news.
I scan the headlines: Dallas Oilers Owner and Most Eligible Bachelor is no more. Nico Harrison marries oil heiress Laurene Christy.
My knees give out, and I fall to the floor, my hands stopping my face from smashing into the floor. I have just enough time to grab the garbage can before I throw up.
My phone rings from somewhere in the house. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Getting up, I don’t even notice the tears on my face. I don’t notice until the sob rips through me, and I have to hold onto the wall as I walk to my bedroom. The phone rings again and again, but my eyes and feet are too scared to move in its direction. I feel the room spinning around me, or maybe it’s my head that is spinning.
Along with the phone ringing, I hear my front door open. I look in shock and afraid in case it’s Nico. The echoing sound of my breath fills my ears. I don’t know if I should run or stay. I’m like a deer caught in the headlights when I see it’s Francis. He stands there in shorts and a T-shirt. I hated it when he bought a condo in my building, but I’m thankful for it right now. “So I take it you heard the news.”
I don’t say anything. Instead, a sob comes out of me. My hand flies to my mouth to stop it from escaping, but I’m not fast enough. My body starts to shake uncontrollably. I feel like I’m falling, but I don’t crash into the floor this time. Instead, Francis is catching me. He’s picking me up off my feet. “That motherfucker,” he hisses as my phone rings again.
He looks at me as I bury my face in my hands. “This can’t be happening,” I say in a whisper. “It can’t be.”