Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Oliver
I’ve been staring at the message Blakely sent me for the last ten minutes. Her hair is down and in loose curls, and she’s wearing this red dress with long sleeves, and she’s absolutely breathtaking.
Me: My beautiful girl.
I hit Send and curse myself. I shouldn’t be calling her mine, but the bigger issue is that she feels like mine. The issue that catapults above that is the fact I want her to be. The more time we spend together, the more that feeling grows. It scares me, but what’s even scarier is thinking about the day when she’s no longer in my life. I quickly save the image to my photos. This is yet another image of her to add to my growing collection.
Blakely: Thank you.
Me: What are you doing tonight? You said plans, but you didn’t say what. Another Kincaid celebration?
Blakely: Dave and Theresa Thompson’s holiday party.
My heart stalls in my chest. No. She can’t go there. She can’t. Josh’s parents will be there, and even though they’ve yet to attend since the party four years ago, I know that Josh and Hannah have open invitations. My mother claims it’s the right thing to do, to show them I’ve moved on. They never show, and neither do I. But what if they do? I don’t want Josh anywhere near Blakely.
Me: No.
Blakely: What do you mean, no? I was invited.
Me: We declined.
Blakely: No, you declined. When your mom called me at work this week, I accepted.
My mother is going to be hearing from me. She knows how I feel about this damn party. About the entire fucking holiday. How could she go behind my back and call Blakely and invite her, knowing I won’t be there?
Me: No. You’re not going.
Blakely: I’m going.
Fuck. I dial her number, and she sends me to voicemail.
Me: Answer your phone, baby.
I try her again. This time she answers. “I’m going.”
“No. You’re not going. Not there.” My voice shakes with anger.
“Why?”
“Because you’re not.” There is a finality in my tone that I’m hoping she heeds.
“I’m already in the car on my way.”
“Turn the fuck around,” I say, harsher than I intended. “Please turn around. Come to me, baby. Just come to me.” I’m pleading because the thought of her being there, at that party, the same place where my life fell apart four years ago, makes me sick. I’m just starting to feel like me again, thanks to her, and… no she can’t be there. Not during this fucking party. “I want to see you,” I try again, softening my tone.
“If you want to see me, you know where I’ll be.”
“Blake.” My voice cracks. Fuck, why can’t she understand that she’s the best fucking part of my world, and I don’t want her anywhere near the worst part?
“If I don’t see you at the party, I’ll call you when I leave. If it’s not too late, maybe you can come see me, or I can stop by your place.”
“Please come home. I’ll come to you. Just turn the car around and go back to your place.”
“I’m going to the party, Oliver.”
“Dammit, Blake. You can’t do this.”
“It’s just a Christmas party, Ollie. I’ll go say hi to your parents, mingle a little, and then I’ll come home. Okay?”
“No. Not okay, Blakely. Not okay.” My heart is racing, my mind is spinning, and my world feels like it’s about to unravel all over again.
“I’ll see you soon,” she says and ends the call.
“MOTHER FUCK!” I scream out into the room.
My hands tremble as I dial my mother. As soon as the call picks up, I’m giving her hell. “How dare you? How dare you call my Blake and invite her to that party? You know how I feel about it. How could you, Mother?”
“Oliver, sweetheart, it’s not the party you're upset with. It’s the two people you trusted. They are not the party. It’s your father and I. We enjoyed meeting Blakely and wanted to make sure that, even if you didn’t attend, she was still invited. I want to get to know the woman who my son is enamored with.”
“No. She can’t be there. Stop butting into my life, Mother.”
“Oliver, I love you, but you can’t keep living like this. You can’t keep letting the past control your future.”
“Turn her away.”
“I’m sorry, son, I can’t do that. We hope to see you tonight. If not, your father and I will see you for lunch tomorrow at noon.” She ends the call, and this time I toss my phone across the room. It bounces off the couch and onto the floor, and I don’t have it in me to care to check to see if the screen is demolished.
“I have to stop her,” I mumble to myself. I’ll go to the party and convince her to leave with me. Yes. Once I’m there in front of her, I’ll convince her to leave with me. Decision made, I rush to my room to change. I shouldn’t give a fuck what I’m wearing, but I refuse to let Hannah and Josh think they have some kind of hold on me—no matter how much it might be true. Another truth I don’t want to dissect right now.