Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 101398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
I let out a deep exhale and add sugar and cream to the mayor’s coffee, stirring it with annoyed twirls of my hand. The coffee forms a liquid tornado, and I silently curse out fake Norman Wallace for setting me up to look like a moron.
“So, you’re Josie’s sister?”
“I am.” I force another fake smile to curl my lips and glance over my shoulder at the real Norman Wallace while I secure a lid over the steaming cup of coffee that’s been doctored to his liking. “And I apologize again for not being able to make the cappuccino.”
“That’s okay,” he comments with a friendly smile. “Maybe next time I come in?”
“Fingers crossed.” I smile hopefully, even though my only real hope is that this isn’t a regular thing. When it comes to getting back on my feet, I didn’t picture working in my sister’s coffee shop and disappointing customers on a daily basis as my big comeback moment.
“So, there will be a next time?” he questions as I slide the paper-sleeve-thingie over his cup so he doesn’t burn his hands. “As in, you’ll be staying in Red Bridge for a while?”
As I turn on my heel, the sound of the bell grabs my attention before I can answer his question or give him his order. And the person striding in shakes my equilibrium to the point that I have to reach out with my free hand to steady myself on the counter.
The very last person I want to see here, there, or anywhere is here.
Thomas.
What in the toxic Dr. Seuss is going on here? How did he find me this quickly?
Nausea curdles in my stomach like sour milk as my ex-fiancé advances to the counter and stops right beside Mayor Wallace.
“Hello, Norah,” Thomas greets, his voice barely playing at pleasant. It’s stiff and rigid and makes a shock of goose bumps roll up my spine. If we didn’t have an audience, it wouldn’t even have an edge of well-mannered, I’m sure. But, as always, Thomas is far too rehearsed not to perform the part of a politician, even when he’s talking to the woman who left him at the altar.
“W-what are you doing here?” My mouth stutters over my words, and my fingers dig deeper into the counter as I try like hell to keep myself standing. Something about how calm he is downright terrifies me.
“You gave me no choice,” he says through a tight jaw. “Since you won’t answer my calls or texts, I had to resort to other methods.”
I didn’t answer his calls or texts because I hoped I’d never have to face him again. Or my mother, for that matter.
“H-how did you know I was here?”
“It’s not hard to find you when Eleanor and Carlton are still footing your cell phone bill,” he retorts. His smile is a nonverbal checkmate.
The mayor glances between us awkwardly, and I feel as though my body has been cut open for the world to see. The invasion of privacy. The outright disregard for me. It makes me feel like I’m days’-old trash that raccoons rummage around in.
How could you have forgotten such a simple detail?
Lillian was the only person who knew where I was and where I was going. She was the only person I wanted to know. But evidently, I was too wrapped up in trying to pull myself together and keep my distance—and eventually get out of New York without having to face Thomas or my mother—that I forgot to cover all of my tracks.
Rookie mistake.
“What in the hell is going on, Norah?” he questions with a sharp tongue. “I have a hard time believing you left me, left our perfect life together, to come slum it in this shit town.”
Our perfect life? The only thing perfect about our life was what we showed the rest of the world. On the inside, only dirty, disgusting, appalling lies were left to fester and rot.
The mayor clears his throat, and I realize that I am in the middle of my sister’s coffee shop and what is happening right now is not even close to appropriate for a business.
“Thomas, I can’t do this right now. This isn’t the time or place,” I tell him as calmly as I can.
He laughs, but it’s devoid of humor. “If you think I dropped everything, had my assistant move important meetings and rearrange my schedule, to travel all the way to the middle of fucking nowhere to not talk to you, you’re wrong.” His eyes narrow with anger, and his jaw ticks with a tightness I’ve never seen before. His carefully crafted façade is slipping. “I’m not leaving, Norah. Not until you explain what in the hell is going on with you.”
The bell above the door jingles lightly with the mayor’s unexpected exit, and the panic of being completely on my own fills me with crippling dread. My fingers squeeze around the mayor’s forgotten cup of coffee, still in my hand. It collapses under the pressure, and Thomas steps back from the spray of hot liquid with a look of derision.