Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
It’s only fair, right?
My throat is sore. That’s the first thing that comes to mind when I wake up the following day. My sleep was shit, and I still feel extremely tired, but I must work today. I can’t take any more time off, even though what I went through last night warrants a week in bed, and I certainly don’t want to give Vanessa any more ammunition.
After hopping into the shower, I try to wash the smell away. I scrub myself until all I can smell is the beautiful scent of the rose body wash. Wrapped in a fluffy towel, I approach the mirror and wipe away the condensation from the steam. When I see myself, I’m taken aback. The skin of my throat is red and angry, and that’s on top of the Hickey that has turned purple. My neck looks like I’ve been strangled, and I’m unsure how I’m still standing.
I pull open my makeup drawer and shuffle through it until I find something to help cover the bruising. I start applying it to the front, but it barely does anything. Frustrated, I throw it at the wall and watch as the foundation spills everywhere. I don’t know what to do, and it just makes me so angry that I must deal with this in the first place.
Giving up on the makeup for now, I start pulling things out of my closet, trying to work out what I can use to cover my neck so I don’t scare my co-workers and clients. I don’t need people asking me what happened. It will only bring a whole pile of unnecessary attention to me, and the last thing I want is to be investigated at work for why I’m coming in looking like I should be in a hospital. I am sure the colleagues who like me would have me carted off to the hospital the minute they spot my neck.
So I manage to find a black turtleneck dress. I don’t think I’ve ever worn it, and it comes a little too high above my knees, but I pair it with some stockings and put on the black pair of heels Kenzo bought me.
I don’t bother grabbing anything but my purse before I head to the door. Usually, I would take some lunch and make myself a coffee before I leave. But when I pull the door open, Kenzo basically falls against my legs, and I step back. He straightens up, stands, and turns around to face me. I’ve never thought of him as a soft man—not that I do right now because he is still completely overbearing—but the look in his eyes is a little lost.
And very unlike him.
He goes to speak, but I lift my hand in front of his face and shake my head. I’m not sure I’m ready to hear anything that comes out of his mouth because I don’t want to give in to all things him.
“I’m going to work. Please move.” He steps to the side without a word, and I walk past him, feeling his stare on my back the whole time.
When I walk to the bus stop and wait for it, I can still feel him.
And when I board the bus, I look back to find him where I left him, at my door, watching me.
Work seems to drag on for what feels like forever.
Vanessa walks past me a few times and snickers, and that’s about all my interaction with her for the day. Jeff asked for a quick recap meeting, and I managed to sit through that without running away.
All in all, I would say today was successful.
I put on my best face, and it seemed to work.
When I get home, I plan to curl myself up into a ball, sleep, and maybe eat a box of chocolate. Not really sure yet, but hopefully, it doesn’t involve seeing another human.
“Do you have an entourage of hot men on speed dial?” Emma asks. “I mean, this one is pushing a stroller, but hey, still incredibly hot. And he looks an awful lot like your husband.” She hums, looking out the door while I grab my things.
“Go home, Emma, it’s late.” She stayed back to help me with a few things—this girl is loyal to a fault, and I love her for it.
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Emma waves at the baby as she walks past Kyson, who stares at me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him. I wasn’t aware he had a child, and I’m unsure why he’s even here.
“You came to work?” he asks, surprised.
“Was I supposed to put my life on hold because you all chose to associate with some unhinged moron?”
“Touché.”
The baby starts making noises, and he reaches for her, picking her up so she’s on his hip. She smiles, and I can’t help but smile back, even though it hurts inside to do so.