Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Why do you even care?” I foolishly ask.
He turns back into the bedroom. “I don’t. But I will respectfully ask you not to associate with him, Blythe. He isn’t who you think he is.”
I scoff at his words. “Aren’t you two meant to be friends of some sort?”
“I would use that term as loosely as possible.”
“Well, he was nothing but sweet and pleasant to me, so keep your bullshit between yourselves. You and I no longer owe each other anything.”
He faces me, eyes flashing a warning. “Says you, Blythe. But don’t for a second think this is over.”
3
“I’m not coming in.”
“You’ve got back-to-back meetings all day,” Amanda says, failing to hide the panic.
“You’ll have to reschedule.”
“But you have the Harper clients today. They’re a big deal.”
“Amanda, I know my clients. But I’m unable to make it.”
“Are you sniffling?” Her voice rises an octave. “You weren’t sick last night.”
“I gotta go,” I say, completely unprepared for the conversation. “Hang on… has the Kane Alexander file come through, yet?”
“Stop doubting my competence. I told you I’d send it through as soon as I get it.”
“I know, I know… I’m just super curious to find out what it is I’m not allowed to see.”
“Gotta love a man of mystery. Especially when he’s covered in tatts and has muscles bulging—”
“Okay, okay… I’m well aware he’s got all that going for him. I just hope he isn’t giving me the run-around.”
There’s a pause before the sneaky side of Amanda shines through. “Want me to look into it for you?”
“Snoop into his life?”
She scoffs, and I know this ‘looking into it’ is as much for her benefit as it is mine. “It’s not such a hard ask.”
“Okay, but stay within boundaries. Don’t do anything which could jeopardize the company.”
“How much do you know about him?”
“Not much, other than that at some stage he’s been an acquaintance of Shawn’s.”
“Speaking of which…” she says, failing to disguise her excitement. “did someone get lucky last night? Did you jump his bones for sending such an exquisite bouquet?”
My heart skips a beat, and I refuse to give in to the pain when it feels like it’s having the life strangled out of it. “They weren’t from him,” I say slowly.
“Huh? You mean to say you have two sexy men chasing your tail? This shit just isn’t—”
“I’ve really gotta go this time,” I reply, knowing I’ve said too much already. My brain hurts just thinking about it. “Report back to me.”
“On it.”
Hanging up, I glance around at the piles of clothes and personal items I’ve already begun compiling. Only a few hours earlier, Shawn left for work, having spent the night on the couch, the television silently flickering, his bottle of scotch three quarters empty come sunrise. There was no discussion about the night before. No kiss on the cheek. He simply left without a word as if he didn’t have the same restless night I did.
I spent the hours mapping out my next move.
I can’t stay here.
This house is more Shawn’s than it is mine, and it doesn’t feel right being a bitter wife who takes her man for everything, it’s not a hat I want to wear. While the house is in both our names, the money came mostly from his pocket while I studied. Now I’m fully operational and have a reputable name for myself, I can easily afford a nice place on my own without depending on Shawn or any divorce settlement.
“How has it come to this?” I ask no one in particular as I throw a folded blouse on the already-tall pile.
Everywhere I look, I see him. Both good and bad memories. From where he pushed me against the wall and had his wicked way with me the first time we christened this house, to when I first miscarried in the hall, clutching the bathroom door as blood streamed down my legs. The sorrow on Shawn’s face as he rocked me back and forth, waiting for the ambulance, completely ignorant to the mess he was sitting in.
This house holds a lot of memories, but that’s all they are.
Nothing good is being created here anymore. Only more bad to pile on top of the ever-growing list.
My pity party is interrupted when a knock sounds at the door. I jump to my feet hoping it’s the removal company dropping off boxes. I need to be out before Shawn gets home. I can’t handle any more confrontation.
Bounding down the stairs, I wipe my tear-stained face and hope for the best. When I open the door, my smile falls when I see it isn’t the mover.
“I’m sorry, does my face offend you?” my sister asks, half joking. She squints, taking a closer look at me. “Jesus. You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” I say, slipping my hand off the door and turning back into the house. Samantha follows me inside, her high heels clipping along in time with the drag of my slippers. “Coffee?”