Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
I found my answer immediately.
She had her eyes fixed on me, her full attention focused on nothing but me.
I rolled my lower lip into my mouth. “The case never made it to court—he took a plea deal. Granted his wife a speedy divorce, so she could move on and find someone else to take care of the family. My mother still pays for her kids’ tuition.”
Fae buried her face in her hands. “Jesus.”
I wondered if this changed her perception of Constance.
For all of her negative traits—and there were many—Mom wasn’t a terrible human. Just deeply misguided, chained by grief, and struggling to exist without total control over every aspect of her life—and mine.
“I was left with all this rage and no one to direct it at.” I stared down at my lap. “And so, I turned my rage into guilt.”
I’d never said these words to anyone before. Or aloud, for that matter. The truth of them pierced my chest like a bullet.
I’d gone so long without feeling anything at all, that ever since Farrow entered my life, I’d been on sensory overload. She was living proof that angels existed in hell.
“I am so sorry.” Her voice drifted into my ears, soothing me where I burned. “I’m sorry the world was so cruel to you. And I’m sorry you had to carry this experience alone.” Her fingers interlaced with mine. “Most of all, I’m sorry no one taught you that it’s okay not to be okay. Healing is like treading water. You drown as much as you float. You need a shoulder to cry on, Zach. Not a bride.”
“Speaking of my bride…” I unknotted our fingers, still unused to being touched so much. “What happened tonight—”
“Is none of my business,” Farrow finished for me. “We have a deal. I know you’re engaged. I should’ve—”
“Let me finish.” I shifted, facing her. “I had this entire thing planned for you tonight. Dinner. Candlelight. Flowers… All those pesky things in movies.”
“You watch romance movies?” She looked unconvinced.
“Involuntarily. And only to come up with ideas to make you feel… unused.” I grimaced. “Just because ours is a clinical arrangement does not mean you should feel taken advantage of.” I paused. “Oliver gave me a list.”
She pressed her lips together, but a giggle slipped past. “What did you watch?”
“God-awful things.” I wrung my sleeve dry, making her laugh even harder. “When Harry Met Sally, which sucked.”
“It’s a classic,” Farrow protested. “What’s wrong with it?”
“In my opinion, two people with such unfortunate hair should not procreate. Only bad can come out of that.”
She tossed her head back, bellowing. “What else did you hate?”
“Titanic. There was room on that door, Farrow. In fact, there was room for a party of three if they squeezed in tight.”
The car shook with her laughter.
I didn’t understand why. I didn’t find facts funny.
She managed to wave between cackles. “Continue.”
I sighed. “Dirty Dancing should be called Creepy Dancing—Swayze was considerably older than her. And Call Me By Your Name is basically American Pie, but with a peach. Look, point is, I went through extreme discomfort to apologize for your birthday.”
Her smile dazzled now, so big it warmed my skin. “You made dinner for me?”
“All your favorites.”
“And bought roses and candles?”
“It was your birthday. And you did make a big stink about my gift, although I maintain that it was a nice gesture.”
“You asked your friends for advice?” She slapped a hand over her mouth, howling behind it.
I couldn’t help it—I smiled, too.
Her happiness was contagious.
“Stop looking so smug,” I ordered.
“Did you at least like one or two?” She wiggled her brows. “Movies.”
“Octi, they were objectively terrible.”
Her giggles trickled into my bloodstream, making me feel lighter. “Call me that again.”
“Octi?”
“Yes.”
“Octi.”
She grinned. “Such an unusual nickname.”
I smiled. “Such an unusual girl.” I peeled my jacket off my shoulders. “At any rate, as I sat there, surrounded by roses and a home-cooked meal I made myself, I realized how pathetic I was. You weren’t there. What’s more, you looked so happy going away, even when I begged you to stay.”
“I thought it was a power flex.” Her eyes softened, and I believed her. “How did Eileen end up where I should’ve sat?”
I gave her a blank, dispassionate stare. “She appeared at my doorway. She came to visit my mother across the street, and I suppose she figured we could go through our checklist while she was in town.”
Mom had appeared behind Eileen before I could turn her away, dragging her into my den and insisting we should all have dinner together.
Then, she’d made herself scarce before the champagne even made it into a glass.
“You know how my headaches are.”
Perhaps the least convincing excuse in existence.
She hadn’t had a headache in three decades.
Farrow appeared deep in thought, tapping her lips. “Why don’t you tell your mom you don’t want to marry her?”