Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
I walked home with my mind spinning. Flashes of me driving inside her colliding with memories of her anger, frustration, and lastly her fears.
I’d asked her to give me a chance, but she had no idea the mess she’d be walking into.
As I stopped in front of my house, dread filled my stomach.
I didn’t want to go inside. That front door was nothing more than a portal to the past, and for once, I didn’t want to escape the present. My safe little existence locked inside those four walls made my stomach churn.
I’d let a whole beautiful life pass me by.
Staring at that front door, I was assaulted by visions of what could have been.
Me packing the car for vacations at the beach.
Us jogging down the steps, laughing as we headed out for a date night.
Gwen carrying bags filled with tomatoes and zucchini after a Sunday trip to the farmers market.
Me falling to my knees when she met me at the door with a positive pregnancy test.
Our daughter blowing out birthday candles as our son tried to swipe the icing.
Playing catch on the front lawn.
Kissing boo-boos when they fell off their bikes.
Taking pictures before they headed off to prom.
Cars lining the street as we hosted a high school graduation party in the backyard.
Our last child driving away for college, leaving us with a heartbreakingly empty nest, but still grinning because I knew Gwen would be forever by my side.
I hadn’t just let go of Gwen all those years ago.
I’d let go of an entire beautiful future together.
And after all the tragedy I’d experienced, that might have been the most devastating reality of all.
Gwen
“Okay. Spill,” Dylan ordered, lifting a cracker covered with baked brie from her plate.
“Jeez, can you at least give everyone a minute to get comfortable first?” Angela scolded as she settled into the far corner of my sectional, a glass of white wine in one hand and a small plate of various cheeses in the other.
“What? She said it was an emergency meeting,” Dylan defended.
I’d texted them around lunchtime and begged them to come over for a girls’ night. Their kids didn’t have school since it was spring break, and I’d promised them a cheese board, so it wasn’t a hard sell.
I was fucked. Literally, figuratively, and if you asked my body, most of all, thoroughly.
I’d spent all morning at the restaurant trying to work but only managing to overthink all things Truett West.
He loved me.
He’d always loved me.
After our divorce, I would have killed to hear him say those words to me. It had taken six years for me to move on and even consider dating again. Back then, I was angry and swore to anyone who would listen that I hated him, but for too long, a part of me always assumed he’d come back. Too many nights, I’d dream that he’d suddenly swoop back into my life, sweep me off my feet, apologize profusely, explain that he couldn’t live without me, and then beg me to take him back—essentially exactly what he’d done on Saturday with the addition of mind-blowing sex.
I’d just never thought it would take eighteen freaking years.
I was a different person in a different place in life now. One where I was a forty-one-year-old two-time divorcée, single mom, coparenting with a narcissist, while trying to open my very first restaurant and most recently being stalked by a producer who wanted to make a documentary about the worst day of my life. My plate was full. I had absolutely no room for a relationship with a man as complicated as Truett. And worse, I wasn’t sure there was enough of my heart left to even try.
“Okay, if you’re not ready to start yet, just tell me if I should run out to my car and get my shovel to hide Jeff’s body or not,” Dylan said.
I sighed and then took another sip of my wine. “It’s not about Jeff. He’s at the game with Nate.”
“That producer?” Angela guessed.
“Not him, either. At least not directly anyway.”
“Knock, knock!” Lucille’s voice boomed from the front door as she trotted inside. “What’d I miss?”
“Nothing yet. Though it sounds like we don’t need the shovels after all,” Dylan replied.
“Damn,” Lucille said, dropping her bag onto the kitchen counter, and then she got to work pouring a drink for herself. She didn’t bother asking where anything was. She just started opening and closing the cabinets until she found what she was looking for. “I got your text earlier and went out and bought a new spade and everything.”
I scowled at Dylan. “You told her to bring a shovel?”
She nodded with pride. “Yep, and Angela has the garbage bags and duct tape.”
I swung an accusing gaze to little Miss Goody Two Shoes only to find her grinning too.
“We wanted to be prepared.”