Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Wait. Who am I kidding? I don't know better. I'd bet he called somebody and fixed things for me. The more I think about it, the more obvious it looks. If I had any desire to speak to him right now, I'd march downstairs and tear him a new one for once again interfering where he wasn't invited.
The thing is, I have no desire to speak to him yet. It's been a week, and I still have nothing to say that wouldn't end things immediately. That's not what I want—out of everything, all the confusion and sadness, and even with the sense of betrayal still fresh, I still don't want us to come to an end. I can't live without him.
I just don't know how to be with him right now, that's all. A week of thinking about it hasn't helped anything. I doubt a month would. Our entire relationship has been a puzzle. Why would things change now?
One thing I do know: I need to get out of the house. Acting like a hermit might work for Tatum, but I need something more than the same four walls, or I will start going out of my mind. It can't be healthy for the baby, either, lying around when I don't need to. Sneaking up and down the stairs while listening to make sure Callum isn't nearby. Dreading the slap slap slap of his shoes against the hard floor, knowing the second I set eyes on him, I'll want to give in. That's no way to live.
Yet, here I am, refusing to go. No matter how many times I turn the situation around in my mind, I can't get any closer to making sense of it. I should go. This should be the end. Nobody would put up with this sort of shit–and if I was on the outside of this situation and listening to a good friend tell me about the kinds of things I've been through, I might tell her to go. For good.
However, there's a difference between standing on the outside and being on the inside. I understand that better now than I ever did before. I understand him and why he does what he does. And damn it, I love him. I can't walk away from somebody I love. Especially when I'm carrying his child.
Yeah, I definitely need to get out of this house. After pulling on a sweater and leggings, I add a pair of sneakers and go to the door to listen for any signs of him. I'm not afraid. That much, I know. He won't hurt me. No, I'm afraid, as I tiptoe down the hall with my heart in my throat, that if I see him, it's over. My anger will melt into a puddle. A puddle I'll slip in and inevitably land in Callum's arms. I get the sense that if I don't hold out and make him understand what he did and why it hurts so much, I'll never get another opportunity again.
The upstairs hall is clear, as is the vast, winding staircase. I remember back when this house felt foreign to me. It took forever to feel comfortable walking around on my own, no matter how many times Tatum told me I could. Compared to where I grew up, this is a palace.
Now, here I am, jogging down the stairs, leaning over the railing occasionally to see if anyone is coming my way. It's ludicrous, and I know it, but that's not enough to stop me. I don't need anybody asking where I'm going and reporting back to Callum. Besides, I'm not sure where I'm going. Away from here, that's all I know for sure.
I reach the bottom of the stairs, and my gait slows a little when I look toward the door leading to Tatum's wing. She used to leave it open sometimes, back when we were younger. Now, it's always closed. She lives in her own world of pain and loneliness. I don't even know if she's up or dressed or anything. I don't even know if she'd want to spend time with me if I asked. How is it that we've drifted so far apart?
When footsteps ring out, I have no choice but to either leave now or risk getting caught up with Callum and probably arguing about whether it's okay for me to go out alone. I'm not trying to take a massive risk. I know better than to parade myself around after what's already happened. That's not going to fly with Callum though, and I know it.
So instead of approaching my best friend and asking her to take a drive with me, I bolt, scurrying outside. It doesn't feel right, running from the house like this, even so, I can't face him now. I'm still too conflicted.