Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“That’s a cold kind of comfort, Oliver.” I can’t look at him and resort to fidgeting with the linen napkin. I don’t want him to hurt you. But I’ll hurt you myself. “Because I still look stupid. One minute I’m about to marry him; the next, you.”
“People will always have opinions. Caring about them is a choice.” Reaching out, he loops a lock of hair behind my ear before I can pull away. “I don’t care what people think. The only person I need you to convince is the man you’ll meet this weekend.”
“The house,” I say flatly. At least it’s not all about Lucy.
“The estate, yes.”
“Will Mitchell be there?” A cold stone settles in my stomach at the thought.
“I don’t know.” It seems he doesn’t care either way. Can’t say I feel the same way.
“What if he chooses to retaliate? Or causes a scene?”
“While I enjoy reminding him what he’s lost, I don’t think he’s that sloppy. Besides,” he adds, bending down at the appearance of Judas—I mean, Bo—to scratch him behind his floppy ear. “He knows you’ve moved on with a better man.”
I make a flat line of my mouth and keep my thoughts to myself. A devil of a man.
“I’m glad we understand each other. That we’ve cleared the air.” He stands, done with these topics. Me, not so much.
“You could’ve just told me some of this. Said you were trying to help my visa, that you had a better plan or whatever.”
“Yes, because you would’ve been so wonderfully receptive,” he replies, not without scorn.
“You really are a piece of work,” I say, standing. I neatly push my chair under the table before glancing his way. When our eyes meet, there’s no regret in his.
“I’m glad you’re seeing that now.”
Chapter 28
EVIE
I walked out. I left him standing there. It felt necessary. Symbolic, with the quiet click of the door, when I wanted to slam it so hard, it would rattle the hotel walls.
I didn’t even have to avoid him in the evening, as he had a business dinner to attend. The first since I’d moved in, apparently. Stay until the bitter end? I wonder how many dinners and evenings out I’ll drive him to. Maybe I’ll get a reprieve, have my sentence shortened. Not even that thought makes me feel good.
“Was it this one?”
I snap back from my morose speculations and smile at the pedicurist. She’s holding a bottle of vivid, vampy red nail polish in her hand. “Sorry, I zoned out.”
“I’m just checking that Dart through the Heart was the shade you chose.”
“I’d settle for a knife.”
Yes, officer. The nail polish did make me do it.
“Sorry?” Her lovely (but improbable) lashes flutter rapidly.
“Silly joke.” I paint on a reassuring smile. “Yes, that’s the one.”
If this was a real relationship, I wouldn’t be sitting here (in his spa) beautifying myself for a night out with him. I’d be camped out in my pj’s, refusing to move.
Actually, no. If this was a real relationship, it wouldn’t be a relationship for very long. But it isn’t real, so here I sit, preparing for tonight—for the big one. The evening I’m expected to work magic when I don’t even have a wand.
Or an idea of what I’m getting into.
The past twenty-four hours have been a mess. I felt lonely. Trapped. I’ve needed someone to talk to, someone to help me process this mess, but I can’t tell Yara, and Riley isn’t back yet. Not that I could tell him, because where would I start? How could I begin to justify my actions, explain this anger—at myself, at Oliver. At a woman I’ve never met but suffered for.
Lucy. I wonder if she knows how much she’s hurt him. If she’s aware of the lengths Oliver is prepared to go to get over her.
Well, screw him, and screw her! I’m out of here the minute this is over. I’m done with feeling like a fool. Done with men that can’t be trusted. I’m gonna take up yoga, join a retreat in Goa. Detox. Become celibate. I’m going to—
“Can you just . . .” The pedicurist smiles hesitantly up at me. “You keep tensing your feet.”
“Sorry.” I force my toes to relax. No need to make her job difficult.
My pulse picks up as my phone buzzes in my lap with a text. I don’t know what’s with the flutter. It’s not like I’m expecting any kind of apology. Besides, Oliver rarely ever texts. The freak of nature that he is prefers to call when he has a summons to issue.
Also, as far as I can tell, he never apologizes.
But it’s from Riley.
Riley: Ruben. Croque Madame. Bánh mì.
Evie: Slightly random.
Riley: War of the world of sandwiches. You have to choose.
I smile. I’ve missed this goofball. But still, this fair-weather friend needs a little kick up the butt.