Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
He looks at his watch. “It’s probably just getting over right about now.”
My brows pull together as I try to make sense of what he’s saying. But as his gaze finds mine again, something tugs on my heart.
“Why aren’t you there?”
“I told you. I had an important matter to take care of today.”
I don’t want to ask. I don’t want to do this. And if I have to do it, I don’t want it to be here in the lobby of my building around people I’ll have to see every day.
I turn on my heel. “I have to go.”
“Blaire. Wait.”
I turn my back and march toward the doors. My lashes barely hold back tears.
I don’t think I can do this—not here. I don’t think I’m equipped enough to feel all of this kind of pain right now.
The website said to feel it all but not to let it overwhelm you. This might be overwhelming.
I blow out a breath.
My palms hit the door because I don’t wait for the revolving one as I shove my way outside. Holt is behind me. I feel his energy, but I don’t look back.
I don’t stop until I’m a half a block away and the crowd has thinned out a little. Only then can I press my back against a building and try to gather myself.
It takes all of two seconds for Holt to be standing in front of me.
“I was so fucking wrong, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I am so, so sorry.”
He’s standing so close to me that I can feel his energy rippling off his body. I shiver at the contact, wanting so badly to dive into his arms.
But I don’t. Because I don’t need to. I’m stronger than that.
“You could’ve called me about this,” I told him. “Your apology didn’t warrant an in-person exchange.”
He shrugs sheepishly. “I tried. You sent me to voicemail.”
“You could’ve left one.”
“I don’t really do voicemails. So much gets lost in the mix.”
“Well, I don’t really do men who think that they can just pop up in my life when it’s convenient for them. So if you’ll excuse me.” I give him a pointed look and head down the sidewalk again.
It kills me to walk away. It’s like a knife in my heartless cavity. Each step is like the blade is getting dug deeper and deeper into my soul.
I walk to the edge of the block and stop beneath a tree in an oversized box planter. It provides a little shade from the sun and acts like a blocker from the throngs of people.
Everyone except Holt.
“Stop running from me,” Holt says, standing in front of me again.
I refuse to look at him.
“I know I fucked up,” he begins but stops when I fire him a hard glare.
I put a hand on my hip. “I know you fucked up. I know that I could’ve been the best thing to ever happen to you. But you are too busy for that. So please, leave me alone.”
His face falls. “I deserve all of that. And I’ll stand here and listen to you berate me until you’ve said everything you need to say.”
“I don’t need to say anything to you.”
“Good. Then listen.” He shifts his weight. “I’m sorry, Blaire. This whole thing is my fault—all of it. I pursued you. I spoke to Oliver about you. I walked out and didn’t come back.” His voice breaks. “I left you when you needed me, and that’s the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”
His face is riddled with pain. There are bags under his eyes, and his skin is pale.
I hate it. I hate that we have come to this.
“You hurt me,” I admit. “You broke my heart.”
“I know.”
“Do you know what it felt like to hear you tell Oliver that I required too much energy?”
His eyes light up. “That’s not what I said. That’s not what I meant.”
“Holt …”
“Hear me out.” He licks his lips. “I was telling him that you deserved so much more than I could give you. I didn’t know how … I didn’t know how to incorporate you into my life and guarantee you wouldn’t get hurt.”
“So you just hurt me outright instead? Genius move.”
“I didn’t know you were listening, or I would’ve been more careful.”
“But you walked out, and I was standing right in front of you.”
He takes a deep breath. His chest shakes as he inhales. “I promise you that I will never walk out on you again.”
“I know you won’t. Because I’m not there.”
He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it.
“Give me another chance,” he says. “Give me a chance because I don’t think we’ve ever had a real one.”
My heart pounds as I take in the sincerity in his face. I want to believe him. I want to go to concerts and have late night pizza and talk about law and contracts and construction projects at breakfast.