Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“I appreciate it, Tim, but Riggs is not like that.”
“Like what?” he boomed. “Human?”
“He doesn’t do feelings.”
“Eh, famous last words.”
But those were some of the very first words Riggs had said to me, when we made the deal. And now? I knew better than to doubt them.
Then there was Micko, who seemed to be growing by the nanosecond and spending every waking moment clawing through every single item in my flat. The settee was already tarnished. Micko had decided to use it as her nail filer. The rest of the furniture, she just used as her bed and made sure to leave loads of hair on. In fact, Micko, being a typical cat, had decided to make every single surface in the place her bed, other than—of course—her actual bed.
I spent the vast majority of my time trying to shoo her off furniture, and the remaining time I cuddled with her, because I felt bad about limiting her sleep spots. What I didn’t do was apply for jobs. Somehow, I’d lost all motivation after Riggs shut me down. I told myself it was fine. That after October 22, I’d get my visa and become more attractive to employers. But deep down, worry began gnawing at my gut. I had never been so apathetic. Everything in New York reminded me of him. Without him, the city was a shell. Hollow and empty.
Riggs and I probably could have gone on like this for the remainder of the three weeks together. Him, giving me the silent treatment, and me, trying to hold my head up high and not fall apart.
We could have, but then something terrible happened.
That evening, I waited for Riggs to come home, sitting on the settee as I ogled the door. Not one to disappoint, he stumbled inside at half past six, looking disheveled, eyes glazed over. After dropping his backpack at the door, he kicked his Blundstones against the wall and headed straight to the fridge.
I stood up. I was over being punished by him for something I didn’t do. I’d made it clear BJ and I were done. If Riggs didn’t want me anymore, which he was entitled to, he should end it respectfully.
“Had a good day?” I asked politely, hands clasped behind my back.
Shrugging, he took out a can of beer from the fridge, then chugged it.
“Where’s Micko?” Riggs glanced around.
“In her litter tray, doing a poo,” I said through gritted teeth. I really didn’t care for his attitude. “We need to talk.”
“I can see.” He gave me a once-over, looking none too happy. “This’ll have to wait until I come back from Morocco, though. I got a last-minute paid-content assignment. I’m leaving tonight.”
“It’s not going to be dreadfully long.” Panic laced my voice, and I hated that I became the same small woman I was in my relationship with BJ. I promised myself to never be that person again. He’d told me about his upcoming work trip, but I must’ve penciled in the wrong date.
“Sorry, don’t have time.” He lumbered toward a pile of his clothes in my living room before plucking some clean items and shoving them into his backpack.
“You can’t go to Morocco.” I hadn’t a clue what inspired me to say this. He clearly could.
Riggs chuckled, not looking back from his backpack. He slung it over his shoulder, patting his pockets down to ensure he had his wallet and passport. For him, traveling around the world was akin to taking the subway to Williamsburg. “See you on October twenty-second.”
He headed to the door. Rage simmered up my throat, and my fists balled painfully, my nails digging into my skin.
“Charlie is gonna die tonight.”
He stopped in his tracks but didn’t turn around to look at me. The only sign that he’d heard me was the tiny nod of his head.
“What do you want me to do with that information?” Riggs asked frostily.
“Say goodbye.”
“I didn’t even want to say hello,” he reminded me, slowly turning on his heel to meet my gaze.
“I know.” I didn’t waver. Didn’t look away. “But the hello happened, so a proper goodbye shall follow too.”
Riggs blew out air. “I appreciate the heads-up, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Stepping forward, I couldn’t help myself and grabbed his hands. A shot of electricity ran through me. He was warm and rough and familiar and no longer mine, and my heart broke all over again. I hated myself for not telling him how I felt when I still had a chance. When there was a minuscule chance of us being together.
I inhaled. “Trust me, you’ll regret it if you don’t see him before he passes away.”
“How do you know?” His eyes tapered.
“Because even though I hate my father, and haven’t seen him in over twenty years, I’d still want to see him if he was dying. It’s not about his welfare. It’s about yours.”