Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
"How so?"
"She let him go," he swallows. "Imagine living a life with that sort of guilt and sorrow."
"That's... sad."
"They met when Mum was rebelling against her duty as a Duchess. She went and found some American out of spite. Only,” he laughs, "she ended up falling in love with him.”
"That's kind of romantic."
"More like tragic. Her family didn't approve so she got pregnant thinking it would change their minds. It didn’t."
"Wow so you were-"
"Kind of a pawn," he chuckles. "I didn't know who my father even was 'til I was ten. She gave birth to me in America. She needed the financial security of her family, but also wanted me to have free reign to come find him when the time was right, and without her. She couldn't stand to see him after the choice she made."
"That must have been hard."
"For who?" he shrugs. "Imagine finding out you have a kid ten years later, and from the woman who broke your heart. By then he was married. I got to know him and my half-sister all at once. His wife too. Mum was of course devastated. I spent half my time in England and the other in California," his voice trails off. "But yeah, she won't see him. Blames herself."
"I had no idea."
"Why would you?" he mocks. "You know nothing about me, remember?"
I bite my lip.
“Come,” he holds out his hand. "Are you hungry?"
I nod, letting our fingers collide once again.
As we head down more of those identical corridors to wherever we're going to get food he holds my hand. Except whenever we're about to pass someone he lets go, only to pick it back up once we're alone.
It's an art I don't even want to know how he's mastered. I'm too stunned by the whole thing to even acknowledge it anyway.
Eventually we reach an area so busy that after he lets go he never picks it back up again, and I get it.
Everyone we pass stops and stares, and holding my hand would obviously raise so many questions.
And it does, even for me.
I have so many questions, and I can't bring myself to ask any of them.
I'm too scared and ashamed to hear him say what I think he will - to witness him scramble some gentle sentence together, telling me how he could never be with someone like me. So really, why bother asking what I already know? He dates people like Sabrina Wilson, and models, and insanely beautiful actresses.
Not people like me.
Case in point... we walk into a room full of people who look like they belong. I even recognize a few celebrities. They all rush up and crowd Asher with hellos and hi-five’s. They praise him while hanging on to every word he says. He looks over at me and smiles, but ultimately never introduces me to anyone. He remains the center of attention, all smoke and mirrors.
I slowly back away.
Long tables line the walls, with every type of food and dessert imaginable.
I head for the nearest one.
“Cool, huh?” Brad appears, nudging my side.
"It's something all right."
"You gotta try the cupcakes." He picks one up and takes a bite.
With a smile I place two on my plate. Then, mouth stuffed, he nods for me to follow.
The room bleeds into an even bigger room, and he leads us to a small table in the corner.
"For us nobodies," he teases, before realizing he said the wrong thing.
"Is it always like this?"
"'Afraid so."
Loud shrieks and squeals have me looking up. A small group of girls in short shorts and tight shirts enter and coo over Asher. They hug and kiss on the cheek like it's been ages. One wraps her arms around him as another ruffles his hair.
Brad clears his throat, and I swallow hard, wondering if these are the other New Yorks.
"Hey, you okay?"
"Yeah," I force a smile, but ultimately I'm really bad at hiding the truth.
"You'll get used to it."
I start to respond only nothing comes out.
Is that what I'm supposed to do? Get used to it? Get used to being one of many?
“Hello, mates!” Asher is back and pulls up a chair, narrowing in on me. "Everything okay?"
"Perfect. Everything is perfect."
He offers a wary look. Then grabs a fork and starts eating off my plate.
"So what time is the flight?” Brad purposely changes the subject, only to realize he once again said the wrong thing.
Flight?
“As soon as the show ends,” Asher flashes me a sad smile.
I stop mid bite.
“You’re leaving tonight?”
He only just got here.
“Yeah,” he squeezes my leg under the table, leaving his hand on my thigh. It’s intimate. Too intimate, and I like it. I like it too much. “I have meetings in LA all week. And I have to finish the album," he lowers his voice, "and I still have to deal with the third Sunbitten movie. And tour scheduling...” his voice fades into the background as I feel eyes on my back.