The Hating Season Read online K.A. Linde

Categories Genre: Angst, Billionaire, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
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Lark held up her hand. “I don’t need to know that.”

“But English, I didn’t think…”

“You’re dense. Both of you. Why do you think she was upset in the first place? Why do you think she left?”

“She left?”

Something sparked in my chest. I didn’t fucking know what it was. But I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted her to tell me exactly what she was thinking. No more games. No more cat and mouse. Just the truth.

“Yes. She went home. Obviously, she didn’t enjoy watching you with Poppy.”

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“Now, you’re getting it.”

I shook my head, shaking something loose. I’d been an idiot. I was mad at English for taking me at face value, but I’d taken her at it. She’d pushed me away because she liked me. She felt something for me that… scared her? It was unfathomable that someone like English would do that. It had never crossed my mind.

“I have to go after her.”

“Erm… wait, what?” Lark asked. “Is that a good idea?”

“Fuck good ideas,” I said abruptly. “I need to hear it from her.”

“If this is just to pad your ego—”

“It’s not,” I said, cutting her off.

Lark looked at me, really looked at me. She tilted her head as if seeing something different in my expression than she ever had before. I wasn’t showing her the Upper East Side playboy that I always wore. This was just me. And I needed to find English right now.

“Where is she?”

“She’s at her apartment.”

“I’ve never been.”

Lark scoffed. “Seriously?”

I hadn’t thought about how strange that was until this moment. We’d always met at my place. Everything, except her orgasms, had been about me. Fuck. I needed to talk to her. I couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

“Tell me how to get there.”

And to my surprise, she did.

“What are you going to do about Poppy?” Lark asked.

I shook my head. “We need to get her help. She’s worse off than I thought. I swear she’s gone to the restroom two or three times already. Can we send her back to rehab?”

“Jesus, Court,” Lark said with a shake of her head. “I’ll handle it.”

“You sure?”

“Go! Before English changes her mind.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I felt light for the first time in so long. “Thanks, Lark.”

“For the kick in the ass?”

I winked at her. “For being a good friend.”

Then, I left Lark to deal with Poppy and rushed out of The Plaza.

24

English

My apartment still didn’t feel like home. Even though I’d been living there for two months, it didn’t quite belong to me. Likely because Josh had purchased it and we’d planned to live here together. A guilt gift. One I probably should have gotten rid of. I would have, if it wasn’t perfect.

Still, it felt cold tonight.

Fall blew into the city, and the full glass windows overlooking Manhattan did nothing to trap the heat inside. But it was the empty space and the broken promises and the crushed dreams that made it so frigid.

I tugged off my black party dress and haphazardly threw it against my desk chair. I replaced it with my oldest, softest, comfiest black sweatpants and an oversize sweatshirt. My long hair went up onto the top of my head with a wayward scrunchie. And I settled onto the couch to watch some Friends and not think about the shit night I’d had.

I was halfway into the pivot episode when someone knocked on my door. I glanced up in confusion. No one had knocked on my door since I moved here, except when I ordered takeout. I really did not want to talk to a stranger right now.

With a huff of frustration, I paused the episode and went to answer the door. I pulled it open, prepared to tell whoever it was to leave, but standing on the threshold was Court Kensington. In a tuxedo. Looking sexy as hell.

“Court?”

“Hey, English.”

“What… what are you doing here?” I forced myself to say. “How did you even know where I live?”

“Lark told me.”

Lark. Ah. She must have said something to him. She was usually such a good friend. This confrontation was the last thing I needed tonight.

“I don’t know what she said, but I really don’t want to do this tonight.”

“You just left,” he accused.

“Well, yeah,” I said with a shrug. “Why was I even there? I don’t know Penn and Natalie. I’m just a publicist. I don’t even know why I got an invite.”

“But that wasn’t why you left.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked up at me without guile.

I sighed. “It doesn’t matter why I left.”

“I think it does.”

I reached out to close the door. “Just go back to your heiress, Court.”

He put his hand out to stop it short. “Can we talk? Really talk.”

“About what?” I said irritably. “I think I saw all that I needed. I don’t need words wrapped in lies. I just want to get some sleep.”



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