Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Without hesitating, he pulled me into his arms. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, English.”
I cried into his shoulder. My tears soaking through his rather expensive suit coat. Likely totally fucking my makeup. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t stop me. He just rubbed my back and held me.
After a few minutes, I hiccuped and pulled back. I wiped under my eyes with my fingers. “God, I probably look like such a mess.”
“No, you don’t,” he whispered softly. His eyes so wide and caring.
I pulled a compact out of my purse and adjusted my makeup. My cheeks were red and puffy, and my eyes looked like, well, like I’d been crying. But it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it’d be.
His hand was still on my shoulder, steadying me. “You know, I’ll always be here for you, English. If you need someone to talk to or just cry on, I can be there.”
“Thank you.” I swallowed back the last wave of tears and sniffed once. “I appreciate it.”
His hand was still on my shoulder. Rubbing slow circles into my skin. “Do you have a sense of déjà vu?”
“A little,” I whispered.
It did feel the same.
We’d met on a night just like this one. Except that I’d been so out of my element and he’d been pure confidence. I’d never thought that I could fall for someone like him. And within hours, I’d handed over my entire heart, hook, line, and sinker.
He stepped in closer. His arms came around my shoulders. “I want it to be like it was. I wish we could go back to that night and start over.”
I did, too. A small part of me really wanted that.
A part of me even wanted this right here. For my husband to have been here for me through all of it.
It would be so easy to just play the night over again. To get lost in conversation with him for hours on end. To let him call me after and woo me into a date. We’d go to a fancy restaurant. He’d insist on ordering, but I’d order for myself anyway because that was who I was. We’d dance in the lobby of the bar to no music, and he’d drive me home and kiss me at the door.
We’d make up. Go to counseling. Forget what had happened. And live happily ever after.
I could see the entire future in his eyes as he waited for my response. Waited for me to agree with him.
But as much as that would be wonderful, it wasn’t even what I wanted anymore. He wasn’t what I wanted.
So, I stepped back, away from his comforting arms. “But we can’t go back.”
He sighed heavily. “Maybe we can.”
“No,” I said with a shake of my head. “No, we can’t.”
“Is it still about what happened in London? It would never happen again.”
“I know,” I said. Because a part of me did know. Losing me had changed his mind. Made him realize his mistake. He wouldn’t do it again. Not to me. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m not the same person I was before you cheated on me, Josh. I can’t go back to being that innocent and wide-eyed with wonder over you. I put my entire trust in you. I gave you my whole heart. And that girl just… doesn’t exist anymore.”
“I understand,” he said sadly. “But I still love you.”
I swallowed and nodded. He stepped forward then and pressed a kiss to my forehead. I closed my eyes as his scent enveloped me.
“Good-bye, English.”
Then, he walked away, and I let him.
And I wished then that there were a blue-eyed Manhattan playboy with a penchant for fantasy novels and a love for lacrosse here tonight instead. I wished I could cry on his shoulder about Taylor… and have him tell me it would all be okay.
But I did none of those things.
I just went back to the party to see Winnie and live this new life.
37
Court
The stick cracked into the cue ball and smacked hard into the red three ball, and I pocketed it in the top-left corner.
“Phew,” I muttered, leaning back against the pool table and forcing a smile. “Thought I’d miss that one.”
Camden had just lit a new joint and passed it to me. “I think you’re going to miss them all.”
“Ass.”
I waved off the joint even though I probably needed it. My anxiety had been through the roof since English left. It had been ten, going on eleven, brutal days without her. Not a call, not a text, not even an active notification that she was online. It was as if the world had screeched to a stop.
“Suit yourself,” Camden said as he took a hit of the joint. “Make your next shot.”
I stared down at the pool table and saw essentially no clean shots. I was fucked. Camden was a better pool player than me anyway. I usually lucked into a lot of my success. As per usual, apparently.