Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
“So a babysitter.”
“No. Yes. Maybe at the beginning. But it didn’t take long to realize how bloody amazing you are. I liked you right away— ”
“Not as much as you liked my dad’s money,” I cut in bitterly.
“—and I justified it by reminding myself it’s what I’d do for any other mate. Just happened I was getting paid for it this time. But the more I got to know you, the more wrong it felt accepting money from your father.” Swallowing, he gestures to his phone. “Read the last email.”
“No. I’m done reading.”
He implores me with his eyes. “Please. It’s one email. I sent it after we went driving. The second time we kissed.”
I set my jaw. “Yes. I remember. You kissed me back and then pulled away, pretending you wanted to preserve our friendship— ”
“I wasn’t pretending.”
“—when it turns out you just felt guilty for accepting blood money from my father. Right? Isn’t that why you kept running away every time we kissed?”
“Please,” he says. “Just read it.”
After a moment of reluctance, I force myself to look at the screen.
Mr. Bly, as generous as you’ve been, I don’t feel comfortable accepting any more rent payments from you. I consider Abbey a good friend, and I promise you I’ll watch out for her regardless. I’d also like to return the funds you’ve already transferred, though I do need some time to pay those back.
Dad’s response is typical. He tells him in no uncertain terms he won’t accept any money Jack tries to pay back.
“Abbey,” Jack pleads.
I lift my gaze from his phone.
“Doesn’t that count for something?”
A sharp laugh slips out. I toss the phone back. “You want me to congratulate you for finding your conscience?”
He rubs his forehead, visibly tired. Anguished. “No. I…” He trails off.
I drop down on the edge of my bed as I think back to the past five, nearly six months. I didn’t suspect for one second that Jack had been in contact with my father.
It’s so humiliating.
No, it’s…
“It’s infantilizing,” I mumble. “Do you realize how shitty this makes me feel? I knew my father didn’t consider me an adult, but you… I thought you saw me as…” My throat tightens to the point of pain. “As a woman.” I make a strangled noise. “But I was just a little kid you had to babysit.”
“No,” he insists. “That’s not true at all.”
More pieces start falling into place. “It all makes sense now. This is why you were keeping a distance at the start. Why you’re still keeping a distance.”
“There’s no distance. I feel closer to you than nearly anyone else in my life,” Jack says in a soft voice.
I go on as if he hasn’t spoken. Because I don’t believe him. I don’t believe anything anymore.
“That’s why you haven’t asked me to stop seeing Nate. Why you haven’t brought up the what-are-we subject. It’s your way of keeping me at arm’s length.” I shake my head at my own foolishness. “I see that now. You told me you weren’t the commitment type, but I didn’t listen. That’s on me.”
“Please,” he says, scrambling. “Let me fix this, Abbs.”
“There’s no need. This arrangement, the one with my father and now the one with me, has run its course.”
“It hasn’t. I can fix it.”
He reaches for me, but I jump off the bed.
“I want to go to bed now, Jack. Just leave.”
“Please— ”
“No.” With a trembling hand, I hold open my bedroom door. “We’re done here.”
He’s reluctant to move, searching my expression for resolve. When he sees no room for further argument, he steps toward the doorway.
“I’m sorry,” he says roughly. “I never, ever meant to hurt you.”
The lump obstructing my throat makes it difficult to speak. “We were bound to end up here. Better now than later, right?”
At that, I shut the door and sink into my bed. A moment later, Hugh leaps on top of me and does a few laps before curling at my feet. Feeling utterly numb, I watch the branches outside my window shudder in the wind for a while, replaying the careening avalanche of a night that has just fallen on my head.
The devastation is spectacular.
43
I SKIP MY MORNING CLASSES THE NEXT DAY AND GO TO MY FATHER’S hotel instead, where the concierge fawns and fusses over me like I’m the celebrity. The man even rides the elevator to the penthouse with me, then presents me to my father as if I’m a visiting dignitary and not the dude’s daughter.
We don’t say a word as we wait for the sycophantic gentleman to leave. Once he does, my father’s polite expression collapses into itself, and he lets out an unsteady breath.
“Let’s sit,” he says.
“Fine.” My tone isn’t harsh but resigned. Yet he flinches all the same.
We settle on opposite ends of the plush love seat in the living area of his expensive suite. Across the room is a gleaming grand piano, on top of which sit an empty wineglass and two open bottles of red. The bench is pulled out, several pages of sheet music arranged on the piano shelf. I glimpse smudged notations done in pencil.