Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“She’s been distant,” Forrest says. “Sending me to voice mail, not calling to check in as much.” He looks up from his phone. “I was so desperate I called Monroe, and she assured me that she’s fine. Just focusing on graduation.” He points to his phone. “That’s her excuse. Exams are coming up, and she wants to get a head start. She’s been taking a class that’s kicking her ass, I guess. Her study group went from meeting twice a week to three times.”
She told me that too. At least if she’s lying, her stories are consistent. She failed to mention that she wasn’t coming home. That I won’t be seeing her until graduation at the end of next month.
“Seems plausible to me,” Maddox says.
“I’m sure she’s just busy, man. She’s an adult now, living her own life,” Lachlan says gently.
“She’s a smart girl, Forrest. If she needs you, she’ll let you know,” Legend adds.
I stay quiet. Not because I don’t have anything to say, but for fear I’ll blurt out that I’m in love with her, and lost her because I was afraid she would lose him if she chose me, so I keep my mouth shut.
“What about you? You going to give some unsolicited advice too?” Forrest asks.
I shrug. “I agree with them.” I shove the rest of my sub into my mouth and stand from the table, gathering my trash. “I need to get ready for my next client.” The words are barely out of my mouth when Lyra appears at the door to the break room.
“Hey, Roman, your first one for the afternoon is here.”
“Thanks, Lyra. I’ll be right there.” I walk out of the break room and to my room. Immediately, I pull out my phone and send Emerson a text.
* * *
Me: Forrest says you’re not coming home.
Emerson: Gotta prepare for exams and graduation.
Me: I was looking forward to seeing you.
Emerson: I’m doing the responsible thing.
* * *
Her words hit me like a knife in my chest. I know it’s a dig at me. I truly thought with my entire being that I was doing what was best for her, but I think I was wrong. In fact, I know I was wrong.
I should have let her make that choice.
It wasn’t my place to make it for her. I see that now. I understand where I fucked up. That I fucked up. The problem is I don’t know how to fix it. I was hoping to get to see her while she was home for spring break, but that’s not happening.
Part of me is tempted to cancel my schedule and go to her, but I know school has been tough for her this last semester, and a lot of that is the pressure and the sadness of what’s going on between us. So I don’t doubt for a minute that she truly will spend the week studying. That’s the only thing that’s keeping me from going to her.
* * *
Me: Have a good day, baby girl. I miss you.
* * *
I don’t know what else to say. I created this mess. I didn’t fight for us, because I was too busy fighting for her. It was a fight that wasn’t mine to take on, and now I need to figure out how to fix it.
She graduates in seven weeks. Seven more weeks until I can see her again. Seven weeks to figure out how I’m going to fix this. If I’ve learned anything during the last few months, it’s that I can’t go on without her being mine.
Four hours later, I’m walking my client to the front desk. I smile at Lyra, and she nods, going into aftercare instructions and processing his payment. I turn to head to the break room and knock a pile of papers off the desk. When I bend to pick them up, I see a drawing that I know instantly is Emerson’s. It’s a moon and star design, and I’m immediately taken back to the night I held her under the stars. I can’t help but wonder if that’s what she was thinking of when she drew this.
I run my fingers over the design, and an idea hits me. Instead of going to the break room, I stop outside of Legend’s door, knocking lightly on the frame.
“What’s up?” He looks up from the design he’s working on.
“What’s on the books for you the rest of the day?”
“My last client canceled. His wife went into labor, so I’m just working on a design for next week unless we get a walk-in. You need something?”
“I do, actually. Some ink therapy.”
“I’m in. Do you know what you want?”
“Yeah. Let me get it on some transfer paper and I’ll be right back. Black and gray,” I tell him, turning to stride down the hall with Emerson’s sketch in my hand.