Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
It seems unlikely that you and I will ever truly let go of our animosity toward each other, but I love Neil, and I love Emma. I’m committed to protecting them. Can we agree, for their sakes, to stop with the manipulation and pretending? I’m willing to meet you halfway, if you can afford me the same courtesy.
When I was finished there, I opened a new compose window and took a deep breath to brace myself. Then, I started typing.
Holli:
I miss you so much. I want to fix all of this, but I don’t know how.
My fingers hovered over the keys. There was nothing more I needed to say, and nothing more Holli would need to hear. If Deja had told her about our meeting—and if she was going to forgive me—I had this one chance. I wasn’t going to blow it by rambling on like an idiot. I sent the brief message, and it was out of my hands.
When I was done, I sat back and stared at the screen, not willing an immediate response. I wanted her to think about this, so any reconciliation that was going to happen wouldn’t someday be crushed under the weight of resentment.
“Sophie?” Neil called from downstairs, his voice echoing from the next room.
“Yeah, I’m up here. I just got…distracted,” I called back.
He reversed his path, and in a few seconds, he was headed across the little bridge into the loft.
“I was just going to plan dinner, and I thought you could help, if you weren’t busy. If you’re in the middle of something—”
“No, no.” I shook my head. “I just spaced out a little.”
I got up and we walked to the kitchen, Neil keeping two paces behind me. “I don’t wish to be invasive, but what were you doing? You seem so relaxed. Are you high?”
“Kind of, but not in the way you’re thinking.” I stopped and faced him. “But no. I’m keeping it to myself for now. And not because I’m withholding or avoiding. I just don’t want to jinx anything. But suffice it to say, I think therapy is really working.”
“Well, then we’ll have to do something to celebrate. An exquisite wine with dinner?” he asked, looping his arm around my waist as we fell into step together.
“Look, since we’re pretty much failures at veganism already, how about really good beer and—”
“Cheeseburgers,” he said with me.
I knew there was a reason we were together.
CHAPTER TWENTY
After Emma’s wedding, life slowed to a crawl. I hadn’t abandoned the magazine idea, and neither had Deja, but it was tricky, with Holli still not talking to me. I’d asked Deja point-blank if she was lying to Holli about the project, and she’d reassured me that while Holli hadn’t exactly expressed enthusiasm, she hadn’t outright objected.
I took that as a sign of progress.
Though I was champing at the bit to launch an honest-to-god magazine, I was trying to do things right. We’d contacted freelancers, both writers and photographers, and approached cosmetics companies and some designers I’d gotten along with well when I’d been Gabriella’s assistant. We were aiming for a modest, but hearty, first issue.
Neil was great about helping out when I needed him and backing off when I asked. I hadn’t been joking when I’d told him therapy was working; it really was, both for us as a couple and for him by himself. After a brief setback, his hospital-induced PTSD had become manageable once again. For a while, he had to work through some dissociation; every now and then, I would hear him talking to himself, saying things like, “I am in my kitchen, at home, making a sandwich.” Sometimes it was tougher, and he’d ask me for help, something he’d been unwilling or unable to do before. I think he finally believed that it would be a life-long process of recovery.
Valerie had responded graciously to my email, agreeing that it didn’t make sense for us to always be at odds, and apologizing for what she’d said. That was when I’d decided to tell Neil about what had happened.
He was sitting on the deck when I told him, in one of the modern style armchairs that had been put out by the groundskeeper for the summer. It boggled my mind that we had real furniture outdoors, and not just patio stuff.
When I finished recounting the incident at the rehearsal dinner, he blinked at me, eyebrows raised. “Well, I didn’t expect that.”
“It’s totally cool now. We worked it out, and agreed to just dislike each other maturely.”
“I can’t say I’m thrilled at the idea of my ex-girlfriend and my fiancée arguing over who can manipulate me more skillfully.”
Neil leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands hanging loosely from his wrists. “It hurts my feelings,” he said finally.
I hugged my cardigan tighter around myself. “I know. I didn’t want that. It was shitty of me to say those things, and I’m so, so sorry.”