Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“There’s not much to do out here besides weeding and the weeds aren’t that bad. And I don’t want to give anyone a reason to seek us out here.”
I close the distance between us and grasp her hand. “Why don’t we go away for a few days? Just take off, rent a cabin in the woods somewhere, away from everything.”
“What would be the point? All the awful stuff would still be waiting for us when we got back.”
“Not if we stayed gone for a while.”
She takes her hand back. “Just accept it, Austin. This is how it’s always going to be for me. If you can’t handle it, we might as well end this now.”
“What?” I squint. “Kenzie.”
Her hard expression falters, betraying the hurt behind her eyes. She turns away. “You shouldn’t have to deal with any of this. I hate that my drama is making your life harder.”
“You think I can’t handle a little drama?”
“It’s not just a little drama. It’s big. Bigger than both of us, and heavier than either of us can carry.”
“You let me worry about what I can lift, baby girl.”
She looks bone tired. “Austin, I’m trying to tell you that I don’t want to be your girlfriend, or your baby girl, anymore. It was fun while it lasted, but it’s over.”
Her words are meant to cut me, but they slide off my back like rain.
“You don’t mean that, Kenzie.”
“I do—”
“No, you don’t. You’re daring me to wash my hands of you, but I’m not gonna do that.” I pull her stiff, trembling frame against me, cradling the back of her head. “I love you, McKenzie Sommers, and if I can’t love you when life gets hard, then I sure as hell don’t deserve you when it’s easy.”
17
mckenzie
Trying not to glance out the window is like trying not to pick a scab. I can resist the urge while I have things to do, but the second I’m without a distraction, my attention wanders back.
I’m sure the camera crews outside the firm can zoom in close enough to see me through the glass. Austin and Jonah have gone out repeatedly to remind them that the parking lot is private property. Now they gather on the sidewalk, blocking foot traffic, a crowd large enough to make the one outside Rudy’s last night look small by comparison.
If only the same trespassing laws applied to phone calls.
“Hi, is this McKenzie Sommers?”
I sigh into the receiver. It’s been like this all morning. I never know, when I pick up the phone, whether it’s going to be a client, a reporter, or someone who’s just seen the video and wants to tell me how much they enjoyed it, in explicit detail.
“Yes, this is she.”
“What are your thoughts on former governor—"
I hang up.
“Another one?” Cherise asks.
“Just a wrong number.” I’ve been downplaying the phone situation as much as possible. If my colleagues knew how bad it was, they’d immediately take me off the phones. But answering the phone is half my job. If I can’t even do that, I have no business being here.
Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be here. All this attention can’t be good for business. But if I’m not here, where else can I go? Back to waiting tables? Working retail? I’m sure getting an interview will be a piece of cake now that everyone’s watched me fuck myself with a purple dildo.
Cherise returns to her office. I rub the sting from my eyes, still dry and puffy from crying this morning over the poor little chick. I’m not an idiot. I know chicks are fragile and dumb and perfectly capable of drowning in their water troughs without my help. But Austin trusted me with the care of that tiny creature, and I’d failed them both. When I gathered the lifeless ball of fluff in my hands, something inside me shattered. If I can’t be trusted to care for a chicken, how am I supposed to nurture something as precious as Austin’s love?
My smartphone chimes on the desk beside my keyboard. I ignore it, then think better about ignoring it, in case it’s a text from Hollywood. I check my notifications and find a new message from my therapist, asking if I want to come in for an emergency appointment. I’m about to text her back when I hear footsteps in the hall.
“Hey,” Jeremy says as he rounds the corner. It must be lunchtime. “How’re you holding up?”
“I’m here.”
He taps on my desk and nods to the window.
“Can you believe that crowd?”
Unfortunately, I can. “I’m trying not to think about it.”
“Right. Of course... Hey, I just wanted to say I’m here if you need to talk about anything.”
“Thanks, Jeremy.” I wish he’d leave. I can tell from the way he’s watching me, like he’s trying to imagine me somewhere else, that he’s seen the video. The thought of it makes my skin crawl.