Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
She drew back sharply. “You don’t know the situation.”
“It’s always the same situation. I do this for a living. I make problems go away. But just because we hide them does not make them go away. Stick to weed. I’ll buy you fucking alcohol if you want. But don’t make me fix your problems for you again. I really don’t want to have to tell Dad.”
“Please don’t,” she whispered in horror.
“If you stop now, I won’t.”
“Thanks.” She sounded hollowed out. “I’ll get my friend to stop.”
“Please be careful.”
“I will. I really will.”
I sighed as I walked away from my sister. I should do more, but I’d been in her exact shoes. I’d had no one to ask for the money. And it had taken me working my ass off to cover it. I should have made her work her ass off for it. But fuck.
“What was that about?” Court asked when I returned to him.
“Nothing.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You sure?”
I glanced back at Taylor, who was already at Bea’s side again.
“Yeah. She’s just an idiot. I think it’ll be fine.”
I hoped. Still, I sent the money.
26
English
Lacrosse games and campaign events filled the next two weeks to the brim. Until I was so busy that I didn’t even have time to think about Taylor. Court had agreed to attend rallies with his mother, and I stayed close by to make sure it went off without a hitch. In public, we always appeared professional. But I looked forward to the hiding part of all this being over.
At least Lark was happy for me. As was Whitley, who I had confessed to over lunch, and Katherine, despite her insistence not to date a Kensington. She’d sent me an invitation to her annual Ears and Tails Halloween party, which benefited a local animal shelter. I tried not to overthink my costume to what I’d gathered was essentially a lingerie party. I needed to focus on the publicity I had lined up for Court going into the election. That was what was important.
Not Googling slutty costumes on the internet.
But it was way more fun.
I’d been dicking around in my home office, doing just that, when I heard the lock click over at the front door. What the hell? Who was coming into my house? No one else but me had a key. I hadn’t even given Court one.
But fuck, the door handle turned. Someone was definitely entering my house.
I jumped up from my seat and dashed into the living room. My heart raced frantically, even as a cold calm settled over my body. I didn’t need a gun or anything. I was well-trained weapon. I’d practiced martial arts for over a decade. My focus had been defense, but I would stop whoever sought to enter my sanctum.
The door flew open. I stood strong in a defensive position, prepared to attack whoever walked through that door.
And just as I moved forward to strike, I saw who it was. But I didn’t pull my punch fast enough, and I hit my husband once, quick and fierce, straight into his windpipe.
“Josh?” I gasped.
He doubled over, clutching at his throat. “Jesus, English.”
“Oh my god, are you okay?”
“Okay?” he wheezed. “You just throat-punched me.”
“I thought you were an intruder. Why didn’t you call or text? Why would you just barge in here?”
I hadn’t even considered that Josh would still have a key. After today, I was changing the locks.
“Fuck, I’m going on The Tonight Show tonight. I’m going to sound like I have fucking laryngitis.” He coughed a few times. “Can I have some water?”
I ground my teeth together. It was his own damn fault. He should have called me and not just entered my home unannounced. But I had just punched him, so I stiffly nodded my head once and let him inside the apartment he’d purchased but never seen.
Until we finalized the divorce, we owned the apartment jointly. Not that it meant he could come and go anytime he wanted.
I strode into the kitchen and pulled a glass out of a cupboard. It was brand-new, just like nearly everything in the apartment. I’d taken next to nothing from our place in LA. I hadn’t wanted an even bigger reminder of Josh in my new apartment.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said hoarsely as I filled up the glass with water.
I had no interest in making small talk.
“Here.” I passed the glass to him, careful that our hands didn’t touch.
He took a sip and winced. Then another. I’d gotten him good.
Seeing him was… difficult.
I hadn’t seen him since London. I’d flown out there to be with him on set for the last Bourne film. We’d made love in his flat in the city, and then the next day, I overheard two people talking about Josh and Celeste sleeping together. When I confronted Josh, he didn’t even want to admit it. He only confessed to it when I said that I’d go to Celeste.