Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 98021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
If that involves making her come, all the better.
If not, that's fine.
But now, with Briar here, in that tiny black bikini—
It's all I see. The two of us at the house, sneaking out late, stripping out of our party attire to jump into the pool naked.
Dripping wet, out of breath, pressed against each other.
That makes sense.
It's the only fucking thing that makes sense.
A life raft in the middle of the ocean.
And, somehow, I have to keep myself from grabbing it.
Chapter Eighteen
Briar
We stay the entire hour.
I change in the dressing room. Wipe my smudged eye makeup. Apply another coat of lipstick.
There. I don't look great, but I look presentable.
Even with my hair more silver than purple. Chlorine fades the color like it's going out of style.
I can touch it up tonight.
Only I'm not going back to my apartment. I'm going to Liam's place and I don't have my hair dye handy.
Or maybe that's another thing he anticipated. Maybe I can text Bree and ask her to send something over.
What would Liam do? Send me, probably.
I wouldn't mind the task, really. I'd enjoy the time out of the office. The excuse to browse a local shop. Is there anything punk rock left at Saint Mark's? Or should I go straight to Ulta?
Fashion colors aren't as big as they were a few years ago, but they aren't the rarity they were when I first tried to dye my hair pink in middle school.
I'd watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind so many times I couldn't get the idea out of my head.
I loved the movie before I understood what it meant. Before I understood the idea of loving someone so much it hurt. Of wanting to erase that memory, but knowing, deep down, I'd lose some part of myself.
But then I don't think of John.
I think of erasing every happy memory with my dad.
The day he pulled us out of school and took us to Six Flags. The birthday we made carrot cake from scratch. The summer trip to the city, where we stood in the middle of Times Square and soaked in the wonder.
It's almost embarrassing to think about now. How could I, a certified New Yorker, stare at the most cliché site in the city with stars in my eyes?
Worse, I still love the flashy billboards and throngs of tourists.
I tell myself it's ironic. The symbols of capitalism and all its ills. A knowledge of its place in society.
That's true, but there's more too.
The little girl, in awe of the Coke billboard, asking Dad for a piggy-back ride, begging for real New York pizza.
At that moment, I knew I wanted to move to the city. I knew I wanted to be three thousand miles from home.
Did I know, somewhere deep down, that Dad wasn't a great guy?
That he was part of the reason Mom locked herself in the bedroom all weekend?
It wasn't just him. It was more too. The brain chemistry she passed on to me and my sister.
But if he was there, if he was what she needed—
It would have been easier for her. Wouldn't it?
I've always hated the women who took up with him. I tried to keep the blame on him. He's the one who broke his vows.
But he's my dad too. For all the fucked-up shit, he's still the guy who taught me to swim and fixed my favorite dinner every Friday and took me to the movies every weekend.
He kept me busy, kept me from spinning out of control, when Mom pulled away.
Bash was the other man.
He wasn't perfect. I didn't know him well enough to judge him, but I knew he was a guy who made mistakes.
He just…
He was always such a romantic.
How could he toss aside her vows?
Maybe it was different. Maybe her husband was an asshole who mistreated her.
Maybe he cheated first.
She was still married.
How could he?
What can I say now?
He's gone.
Liam didn't excuse him.
Besides, we're not a real couple. It's none of my business, no matter how much it nags at me.
I comb my fingers through my hair until it's presentable. Then I take the elevator to the lobby.
Liam is there, at the hotel bar, talking to another man in a suit.
They're talking like work friends, but ones with a long history.
The other man is familiar, but I can't quite place him. He's not a typical New York rich dude.
He's tall and Black and nearly as laid-back as Liam.
Well, as laid-back as Liam pretends to be.
Despite the scorching temperature outside, they're both wearing suits. Liam is in the same one he was wearing this morning. The other guy is wearing a fuchsia tie.
It's familiar.
I've seen him somewhere. Seen his tie somewhere. Noticed how well it complements Liam's appletini.
Even noticed the way the guy's lime garnish complements Liam's appletini.
Liam turns to me. All at once, his picture-perfect smile fades into some mix of frustration and exhaustion.