Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“The producer of that show is my soon-to-be ex-wife.”
“What?” I blink. “Oh wow. That blonde bitch from hell?”
“That’s her.”
I stare out the window. No wonder the blonde was such a bitch to me. She knows I’m fucking her husband. I feel sick, my stomach clutching as bile rises up my throat.
“And you knew, Ian!”
“I didn’t know you were auditioning for her that first time. I found out today.”
“How did you find out?”
“She told me.”
“You still talk to her?”
He shoots me a get-real look. “I haven’t for a year. It’s over. This was different.”
“Why?” I cry. I’m jealous and confused and distraught and emotional.
“Because it was about you,” he lashes.
“Take me home.”
“I’m taking you to mine.”
“No. I said take me home.” I’m scowling now. Enraged, and needing some time to stew on my own. “I thought it was over between you!”
“For me it is. It’s over, Sara. But I’m afraid she’ll make your life a living hell if you take this part.”
I shoot him a frustrated, hopeless, angry look. “I won’t let that stop me. It’s my shot, Ian.”
He mumbles under his breath, shaking his head.
He drives the rest of the way in silence, and I ride chewing my nails. It’s only until he stops before my apartment, wedging his SUV in between the narrow streets and traffic, that I realize I don’t have my apartment key.
“I think…Fuck. I forgot my key.”
His phone rings. “Sorry I’ve got to take this.” He glances at the door of my building, which doesn’t open without my key. “Go inside, I’d rather you not freeze. Yeah?” he barks.
I head toward the door and ring my apartment number as I text Bryn. Hey. I’m here! Forgot my key! No answer. Bitch, open up, I’m freezing my ass!
“That’s so odd.”
Behind me I hear a groan, and a moody, “Stop licking my balls. I’ll stop by—you owe me big time.” He hangs up and I hear, loudly, “Nothing?”
I turn around. “Nope. Run off. I can handle myself.”
“Out here in the cold.”
“Oh, I don’t plan to be out here for long.”
He heads over, exasperated.
“She may be at the office. Or with her new boyfriend. I’ll take care of it,” I assure, sticking to my pride.
Ian glances up and blinks. “Leave you out here in negative-degree weather?” He ponders it and scowls at me. “Nope.”
My teeth are chattering. His hand comes to grip my arm.
“All right, sweetheart. Let’s get back in the car.”
“No. Really. Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you with me.”
“Where?”
“Change of plans. You can come.”
“What gave you the indication that I want to go to wherever it is you’re going?”
He pauses and looks at me. When he finally speaks, his voice is whisper soft. “Don’t do that.” He frowns and shakes his head.
“Do what?”
“You know what,” he growls under his breath.
I stare past his shoulder as the cold wind slaps us both. He’s frustrated. I’m frustrated. He spoke to his wife today, and I’m so jealous I can’t see straight.
I got the part of my dreams. And his wife is the producer.
It’s all messy and complicated and I’m confused and scared. This dating cautiously thing is not working for me. I cannot stop thinking about him. I’m happy. Too happy, when I’m with him. So happy that I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to tell me he still loves his wife. That he’s going back to his wife. Maybe his wife even hopes for that. I mean, look at my mom. Everything went to hell. She’d have done anything to get my dad back.
His wife knows more about him than I do. Like if he likes… to play Monopoly naked in the middle of the night or something crazy? She has an edge, an advantage over me. What if she cooked his favorite meal when they talked? Or wore his favorite color? And it makes me mad. Because I want this man all to myself and I don’t know if I could bear it if he let me go.
Will this end leaving me to spend the rest of my life comparing every other guy to him? Crushed and wanting a man who wanted someone else a little more?
But it’s not his fault that I’m bad at this whole casual thing. It’s not his fault that I… want more.
I sigh dejectedly. “Where are we going?”
“It’s Hilton’s birthday.”
“Hilton?”
“One of my friends. The one we bumped into at the hotel the other day.”
“Is it proper for me to be going?”
“I don’t care if it’s proper. You’re coming with me.”
CLUB
Sara
The club is sizzling when we arrive. It’s on the lower floor of a modern structure encased in glass, invitation only, with tons of classy cars parked outside. All the young and rich in the city are present, without a doubt. I force myself to hold my head high.