Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
It takes a second for my throat to loosen enough so I can swallow that realization. I check the missed calls to make sure Kat hasn’t tried to contact me, although hopelessness runs through my veins before I push the glass doors open with a hard slam of my fists.
I hate that she didn’t call me. That she didn’t care enough to let me know she heard. If Pops has heard, she’s heard.
The bitter cold air whips by my face as I move toward the corner.
I check my messages again, searching for her name like I could’ve missed it. One catches my eye. Samantha. I pause over her name and read her text. We need to talk.
My strides quicken at the thought of meeting with her. She might know something. She could be my way to get what I need from James.
I have to go to Kat first and knowing that, I text Sam back, asking when and where.
Glancing up at the next intersection and seeing the Don’t Walk icon flashing, I look over my shoulder to hail a cab. I’m going home, whether Kat likes it or not.
I’ve kept so many secrets from her.
My head hangs low as a cab pulls up and I step out into the busy streets of New York City. The door slams shut with a loud click, dulling the city noises as I tell the driver our address. It’s only after a few minutes of quiet, the rumble of the car almost lulling me to sleep, that I rub my tired eyes and think about what Kat would say. What she’d do if she knew the shit I got myself into.
She’s already so close to hating me.
She’s close to being over me and what we had.
I can’t risk losing her, but right now either choice—to come clean, or to hide it from her—feels like I’ve already lost her. She needs to know, though … I have to make sure she’s safe and she’s protecting herself.
Chapter 3
Kat
“I want to thank you for meeting me,” Jacob says in both a charming and professional tone—I’m not sure how that’s possible—as my keys clink on the coffee shop table and I take a seat across from him.
It’s been three days since Evan came back to the townhouse. And three days since he accused me of cheating on him and punching Jacob. That night I sent Jacob a message apologizing, but then I turned my phone off. Three days of me hiding away in our bedroom and pretending this isn’t my life.
At some point, I had to come out. What a fresh hell I walked into.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him again with all sincerity and my eyes closed tightly as I settle down into the seat. It’s a wicker chair with a dark red cushion and the smell of coffee from the café adds to the comfort. This coffee shop has a homey feel to it. Very different from my favorite spot in town, Brew Madison, but I can see why Jacob likes it.
My cheeks are practically frozen from the piercing wind whipping through the West Village, but even still, they burn. “I honestly cannot say—”
“Don’t.” Jacob stops me from saying more, holding up his hand and waving off my embarrassment.
I can’t believe how out of hand things have gotten. As a professional, I’m mortified.
“Please, Jacob.” I shake my head slightly then look up at him, staring into his eyes as I refuse to let him downplay everything, especially with a faint bruise hiding behind the five o’clock shadow along his strong jaw. “What happened the other day was ridiculous. Evan had no right to put his hands on you, and I want to thank you for not pressing charges.”
“I don’t blame him, Kat,” Jacob says and waves off my gratitude with an ease that catches me off guard. My heartbeat quickens and it’s the only thing I can hear for a brief moment while I take in his words.
“It’s fine, really. I mean it, I don’t blame him.”
I slowly take off my coat as I tell him, “I do. I know it looked a little off.” A feeling of confusion clouds my memory of what I’d planned to say.
I was going to thank him for not pressing charges.
Beg him not to hold it against the publishing agency.
And concede that I would not be his point of contact if he did choose go with us. Obviously, I can’t represent him after what happened. I’m prepared for that.
“Evan is in the wrong in every way, and I feel awful.”
“It wasn’t you who did it.” The comfort in his voice makes me slightly uneasy. The next words out of his mouth add to that nervousness. “I’m kinda glad he did.”
“Why?” I ask quietly, the nervousness changing to something else. I should stop this. I know that much. It’s a slippery slope I’m balancing on.