Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 91(@200wpm)___ 73(@250wpm)___ 61(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 91(@200wpm)___ 73(@250wpm)___ 61(@300wpm)
First, I got fired. I worked in that company for five years as a book cover designer and graphic artist for promotional materials, and they replaced me with the manager’s nephew, who couldn’t even tell the difference between purple and indigo.
Second, my roommate kicked me out. She said her boyfriend of three weeks wanted to move in and found it weird to have a third person living with them.
I couch-surfed for two months, applied to countless other companies, and tried to push on. With my dwindling bank account balance and the unfortunate dynamic duo of anxiety and depression joining the fun, I ultimately decided to come home.
I wanted to surprise my dad, but I had to regroup first. Which was why I decided to go on a camping trip. It said a lot about how long I was gone because it didn’t cross my mind to check the weather.
All of those misfortunes and stupid decisions led me here.
In front of Matthew. Who’s clearly unhappy to see me.
I can’t blame him. After all, I left Sweetheart Falls with big dreams. I thought I would come back in style and not with my tail between my legs.
“Dan, I asked you a question. Why are you camping right now?”
Dan. That was what he liked to call me. Not Dani, like my dad and friends.
It was an inside joke between us. When he met someone for the first time, he’d be like, “Oh yeah. I’m with Dan, the love of my life.” The look of surprise on their faces when they saw me instead of a guy never failed to crack Matthew up.
I lift a shoulder and look away. “I thought it would be fun.”
“But you hate camping. You hate being out in the woods. You think you’ll wake up to a bear munching on your toes.”
God, I forgot how much he knows about me. “Yeah, well, maybe I changed.”
“You hate how the mud feels on your shoes, how it suctions your feet with every step. You hate how anyone can hide behind the trees and surprise you.”
For some reason, the reminder of how I was undoes something in me. I take a deep, shaky breath to steady myself, but the knot in my chest only grows tighter. So far, I’ve managed to keep my emotions in check, but a few minutes with Matthew and I can already feel the dam cracking.
I didn’t want to leave him. I really didn’t. But things became too much for me.
“I heard you’re engaged! When are you getting married?”
“You’d make a good wife and mother!”
“Have you picked out your dress? How about your maid of honor?”
“Matthew has enough money to let you stay at home. Oh, you’d be amazing!”
“Are you planning to have kids right away? You’d make beautiful children.”
“A dozen kids are nothing, I tell you. When I was in my fifth pregnancy, I was already thinking of the next child’s name.”
“Your dad must be so proud.”
“Girl, you’re gonna be stuck in Sweetheart Falls all your life.”
“Having kids while you’re young is amazing. You know why? Because when you’re in your 40s, you can travel the world and enjoy life again.”
My vision blurs, and I squeeze my eyes shut. When I open them, I blink rapidly, ignoring the fat droplets of rain on my forehead. A heavy shower begins, only the canopy of trees preventing us from being drowned by the rain.
“I have a cabin near here. Bring your stuff. I won’t carry them for you.” His voice is gruff, but his eyes have softened a little.
I’ll take that as a win.
Matthew has never been one to hold grudges. But yeah, I can still be an exception to the rule.
I don’t take another step, though, because I’m at a crossroads. I can stubbornly stay here and pretend I don’t need him. Or I can put aside my pride that’s already in tatters at my feet. Pride? Like I have any left.
With an internal scream, I pick up my things and follow him silently.
Matthew’s right. I hate camping or hiking or any outdoor activity. The reason is pretty obvious. I hate being wet, hungry, and without access to basic hygiene facilities, like a faucet or shower or toilet.
I’m still mentally punching myself when a particularly thick mud suctions my shoes, messing up my balance. My arms pinwheel comically before I land on my butt.
This is where I snap.
A sob breaks out of my throat, followed by another. For so long, I plastered a smile on my face, telling everyone I was fine, even if the truth was so far from it. I can’t do that anymore. I wasn’t fine. I’m not. I’m a failure, and I’ve made so many mistakes in my life, I don’t even know where to start.
The familiar tendrils of anxiety wrap around me, pulling me into its depths, making my head spin, my mind racing a million miles per minute.