Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 67432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“That was great,” Eric said as he pocketed the receipt. I tried getting my card in the waiter’s hand, but Eric was much faster, nearly knocking over a half-drank glass of champagne in his haste to pay.
“It really was,” I said, rubbing my satiated belly and smiling across the table. “We didn’t really talk about what we needed to, though.”
“Nope,” Eric replied. His eyes narrowed, smile widening. “So what do you say about taking this to a bar? There’s a chill one nearby. We can go over the case there.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, mulling over the invite. Spending more time with Eric sounded equal parts dangerous and alluring. I definitely wanted to talk about the case, but I knew doing that at a bar was only inviting trouble. We weren’t even “officially” fake boyfriends yet, and I was already fawning over Eric like a lovestruck schoolgirl. What was going to happen when we had to hold hands and play the part in front of my family?
“No,” I said, setting the napkin on the table and moving to stand. “Sorry, Eric. I just think I might need the night to myself. I’m pretty exhausted.”
Eric looked crestfallen. As if I’d just denied him a ticket to see his favorite artist front row and center.
I wonder if that’s still Imagine Dragons?
I’d have to ask him. Knowing your partner’s favorite band was probably important, but the question would have to wait.
“You sure?” he asked. “The trip is in five days—we don’t have much time. I want to capitalize on every second.”
Shit. The trip really was coming up, and there was still plenty to discuss between us.
But still… storm clouds clapped with lightning and thunder inside my head, bringing me back to that painful night when the man I had loved told me he could never do the same for me. Maybe I should have been over it— I thought I was over it— but standing only a couple of feet away from Eric threw me right back to that night. It was the darkest moment of my life and led me down some even darker roads. My thoughts were all broken and shattered, the pain becoming too difficult to bear. Thankfully, I had Jen to console me and drag me out of the depths of my darkest thoughts, but it still didn’t heal without leaving a scar.
And he still hasn’t even apologized.
“I don’t know…” I said, glancing at my watch as if I had somewhere important to be at eight o’clock at night on a Sunday.
“Come on. I’ll buy you one drink, and then we’ll bounce. I just want to go over who I need to keep my eye on.”
“Fine. One drink,” I relented, rolling my neck and feeling the pops in my spine and along my shoulders. “Maybe two.”
“Let’s go, Junebug.”
I hiccuped, a wisp of the Juniper Junebug pool I had formed in my gut escaping me. “Please don’t call me that.” The room spun a little more than I had expected it to as we walked out of the restaurant, the emerald-green plants appearing to dance on the walls as I went past them.
“Where we headed?” I asked as I pulled out my phone to call an Uber.
“It’s called Blake’s, but we can walk from here. It’s a nice night, and it’s not too far.”
I pocketed my phone and followed as Eric started down the street. He was right—it was a beautiful spring night, with only a couple of fluffy clouds drifting across the darkening night sky and a gentle breeze that stirred the trees, just now getting their color and leaves back after a particularly harsh winter.
“I’m glad you’re back, you know,” Eric said as we were stopped at a crosswalk, the red light from the streetlamp shining down on his face. “I really wish we had stayed in touch. I just felt… like such a fucking asshole. And that feeling never went away. I knew I couldn’t reach out to you; I knew I had to wait for you first. So I waited, and I waited.”
“I would have been fine with you reaching out, just for the record.”
He looked at me with those big brown eyes of his, an entire universe worth of riveting stories waiting to be told, and yet no apology anywhere in sight.
Just. Say. Sorry.
“I’m—” Before he could get the words out, we turned a corner and bumped into the short line leading up to the bouncer at the bar. He dug for his wallet and pulled out his ID. A part of me—the one that wasn’t walled off from emotion—that part of me felt a small fiery-hot ember of anger. I was getting frustrated with Eric again, and we weren’t even a day into our fake relationship yet. He was never that great with speaking his emotions, but I blamed that on the toxically masculine environment he was raised in, and I couldn’t really fault him for it.