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)
“Call me later,” I tell Nate, planting a quick kiss on his cheek.
“Abbey.”
“Yeah?” I stop halfway up the stoop, turning to find Nate watching me with contemplative eyes.
“You’re bloody fantastic.”
The compliment comes out of nowhere and makes my heart skip a beat.
“Oh. Thanks.” I give him a broad smile. “And thank you for tonight. I’ll never forget it.”
I duck into the house, still feeling myself blushing as I hurry up the stairs. After a shower, I put myself to bed tangled in knots again. As wonderful as last night was, it’s not enough to distract me from the thickening tension between me and Jack. I’m not sure yet what I’m going to do about it, but I know the status quo is unsustainable.
Later, Nate calls me as promised. I’m reading at the kitchen counter when my phone lights up, so I mark my page and answer, smiling when his husky voice fills my ear.
“I’ve good news and bad news,” he says in lieu of greeting. “Which would you like to hear first?”
“Bad, obviously.”
He chuckles. “Forever the optimist.”
“Or am I saving the best for last?” I counter.
“No. You’re just a cynic.”
“How dare you.” I trace my finger along the spine of my book. It’s about famous boat disasters, but so far, the information about the Victoria sinking has been bare bones. “All right, tell me the bad part.”
“I’m off to Dublin tomorrow evening for ten days. The band booked a gig at a three-day winter festival over there, so we’re making a lads’ trip out of it.”
“This sounds like good news,” I point out.
“You won’t see my dashing face for nearly two weeks. I reckon you’ll be devastated.”
“Hilarious. You’re fucking hilarious.” But I’m smiling to myself. Laid-back, jokey Nate is a rare treat. “Seriously, though, that’s good news. Sucks you’ll be gone for so long, but booking a festival is great.”
“Pays great too. Which is the good news. Thanks to this gig, I’ll be able to squeeze in a short trip to Budapest in the spring.”
“Nice. And your work’s okay with you taking ten days off?”
“My bandmate’s wife owns the bar. One of the perks of the job.”
“Ah. Lucky.” I shift the phone to my other ear. “Make sure to send me a gazillion pics from Dublin. I’ve never been. But my dad has some pretty wild stories about hanging out with Bono at an Irish charity event they did together.”
Even as I say the words, my spirits sink slightly. There I go again, living vicariously through my father.
“Yes, but has your dad ever spontaneously hunted down a rave at three in the morning and danced all night with the hottest bloke in London?”
“This new conceited side? I’m digging it, Nate. Keep it up.”
But not only did he succeed in cheering me up, he also proved how well he’s beginning to know me. That he understands how vital it is for Abbey Bly to live a life separate from Gunner Bly’s.
His laughter tickles my ear. “I’ll try. And I’ll be sure to send plenty of photos from Dublin.” There’s a telling pause, then, “I’m going to miss you.”
My heart does a somersault. “I’ll miss you too.”
32
THE HOUSE FEELS TOO SMALL WHEN JACK AND I AREN’T SPEAKING. Navigating becomes treacherous, especially when neither of us want Lee or Jamie to pick up on the tension. I come down from my room later that afternoon to rummage for lunch, careful to poke my head around the corner to check the kitchen is clear before I enter. All I see is Jamie sitting at the counter with a sandwich. I’m spreading mustard on bread when Jack strides in, then halts. He stands there, indecisive, for so long that Jamie looks up from his phone.
“All right, mate?”
“Huh?”
“You need something?”
“No, uh…” Jack glances around, then strides back out. “Forgot what I was looking for.”
I pile turkey on my sandwich and nurture the stab of hurt that feeds my anger. For the life of me, I can’t see where Jack gets off pinning any of this on me. I was just here, minding my own business, when he got it in his head to kiss me that first time. I don’t accept responsibility for the consequences of his regrets, and it’s unfair to lay them at my feet. I refuse to entertain his tantrums. For fuck’s sake, I’m the youngest one in the house.
“Weird one, that Jackie,” Jamie says. “He seem strange to you lately?”
“I really wouldn’t know,” I lie.
The path of least resistance is to stay in my room and avoid awkward confrontations altogether. So for the rest of the day, I busy myself with homework and scrutinizing the documents Ben left me. It does little to plug the drain of energy and emotion that saps me as the day wears on. When I can’t stand these four walls anymore, I take a walk to a café a couple blocks over to grab a quick bite for dinner.