Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 61160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“There’s a part of you—a very tiny part, that enjoys being in the spotlight, a part you can’t explain because it’s been a part of you for your entire life. You’re one foot in and one foot out, and it’ll only be a matter of time before you see me like they do, and I just want to protect my heart from that now.”
“Chloe, please.”
“Don’t follow me,” I said. “I’ll send you updates every week about the babies and I’ll turn on my tracker if my water happens to break, okay?”
He didn’t answer, and I walked into the hallway with him on my heels. Not heeding my request, he spun me around to face him.
“You’re all I care about, Chloe,” he said, clasping my hands. “I meant that.”
“Then keep your promise to always do what’s best for me. ” My heart cracked in my chest. “Put yourself in my shoes for five seconds and think about everything I just said…Then let me do what’s best for me.”
He stared at me in disbelief, and pain filled his irises as the seconds passed. Then he slowly let go of my hands.
I walked away before I could change my mind.
Not What I Thought
Tyler
Seattle, Washington
Two days later
There were no phone calls or text messages from Chloe, no emails either.
For the first time in weeks, I rolled over in bed without her in my arms, without her jump-starting my day with her raspy laughter.
She didn’t mean to break up with me.
In denial, I refreshed all our threads, thinking she was simply having an emotional moment about us not being together. That she would come to her senses and see that this was all fixable with time.
“Have you sent out my letter to the newspaper editors, Dillon?” I looked at him from my desk.
“No,” he said. “But I did have one of your actual employees do it.”
“Good.” I nodded. “Well, now, our main problem should be fixed and Chloe will come back, right?”
He didn’t answer that. “Do you need me to do anything else for you today?”
“Outside of finding Chloe, no.”
“Very well.” He stepped back. “I’ll return when you need me.”
“You already know where she’s staying, don’t you?”
The look in his eyes confirmed it, but he left the room without another word.
I immediately picked up my phone.
Me: Where are you living now? Tell me so I can come over and talk to you.
Me: I’ve called you five times. Per hour. Pick up.
Me: Sending your best friends over to retrieve the last of your books is a bit dramatic, don’t you think?
Me: How much longer do you expect me to be okay with not talking to you? Do you honestly think co-parenting can work in the future if we don’t speak?
She didn’t respond.
I thought her behavior would last a day at most, but another day passed, then three more.
And before I knew it, a full week and a half had gone by, and the only thing she sent me was a screenshot from her ‘What to Expect’ app.
She’d completed regressed into her masterful ghosting mode that hurt like hell.
Stick to the Plan
Chloe
29 weeks & 4 days pregnant
Bainbridge Island, Washington
The ferry slowly slipped out of the port, and I adjusted my shades to hide the tears.
Leaving Tyler didn’t make my life any easier. If anything, I was struggling even more. Still, I resolved to stay strong, committing to a new morning routine devoid of his touches.
I woke up two hours before Kristin, took the first available ferry to the city in oversized clothes, and slipped through the side entrance of Madison’s shop long before she served her first cone.
I’d stopped reading the news, but occasionally I caught a glimpse of myself in the thumbnail with “Home-wrecker Watch” as the headline.
“Hey.” An older woman tapped my shoulder. “What type of drugs are you on, honey?”
“Um, none.” I debated getting up and switching seats. “I’m not on any drugs.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because only someone on drugs would write something like that.”
She pointed to the front of my notebook, where I’d written the words, “Things I’ll Figure Out by Thirty.”
“That’s the age when we’re supposed to have it all figured out,” I said. “Or, so I’ve heard.”
“You’ve heard wrong,” she said, laughing. “I’m fifty-five and I still have no idea what I’m doing. I am having fun, though. I had my first threesome last month.”
“Threesome?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “Best birthday present I ever bought for myself. Those two guys who couldn’t get enough of these thighs.”
I laughed for the first time this week, and she patted my back.
“My husband could never do what they did to me,” she said. “If I could go back in time to when I was thirty, I would’ve arranged to have one of those every year.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I smiled. “Anything else you’d go back and change?”