Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
It was a great look on her.
I hated seeing how she looked after her fake-date with Bradley and brunch with her parents. The light in her eyes dimmed, and she withdrew into herself. I looked forward to the day she no longer had to pretend for any of them.
Then reality intruded and I was gone, my world once again focused through the lens of my camera. It was the first time I ever resented getting that call.
It wouldn’t be the last time.
Days later, I walked around a lavish ballroom at a charity dinner and auction, gazing at the overdone opulence, which included heavy, expensive linens and delicate china on the tables. The scent of the hothouse flowers that adorned the center of each of them hung heavy in the air. Trays of extravagant delicacies were being carried around by waiters in tuxedos, then scanned and refused by too-thin women and men far more interested in the contents of their drink glasses. I examined the huge auction table laden with overpriced, decadent items not needed by a single person in this room, yet knowing each one would be bid on zealously, only to be forgotten once it was acquired.
It was all done in the name of charity.
I skirted the room, knowing I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t stay away. It was a new feeling for me—missing someone. Ally had been on my mind constantly the entire time I was gone, another first. Usually, I was so involved with my work, nothing else filtered in. But images, thoughts, and memories of her laughter, how she felt in my arms, would seep into my mind, breaking my concentration. I longed for her.
It felt like forever since I had seen her, and I was aching for a glimpse of her sweet face. I had sent a text saying I had been called away but had no time to go and see her. I couldn’t leave town without letting her know.
I spent days capturing the devastation of the small villages hardest hit by the disaster. Most of the areas were still inaccessible, but the ones Tommy and I had been to had been heartbreaking to witness.
I flew back today, arriving in town only a few hours ago. My only contact with her had been the occasional text when I was somewhere I could get access to the internet, which was rare. There was always a short message waiting for me when I was successful. Simple ones: Take care—I miss you. Thinking of you. Stay safe. The small words meant so much.
I went home, got cleaned up, and came to this event, hoping to see her, even if it was a mere glimpse. The ticket had been hard to come by, but I had told my business manager to do whatever it took to get it for me, and he had come through. I wasn’t usually this irrational or demanding when it came to my emotions, but with Ally, control seemed to fly out the window.
Seeing the money spent on the decor alone made me shake my head. The money could’ve been used so desperately for real needs. Thinking of what I had just seen—the suffering and devastation I had witnessed, knowing how little relief those people would receive—made me angry.
Grabbing a double scotch and dodging around the overdone women and the men all looking as if they’d rather be anywhere else but here, I found her.
I stood in the shadows and drank her in. Small and delicate, she looked so out of place; it made me adore her more than I already did. Standing among the black-and-beige palette around her, she was like a burst of sunshine amid a dark storm. She wore a dress that seemed to float around her, in the colors of a sunset. It left her shoulders bare and swirled about her as she moved. Her hair hung down her back, gleaming and bright under the lights. I wanted to bury my hands in it while I kissed her perfect mouth. Beside her was a woman who was, no doubt, her mother. She was an older, taller version of Ally, without her warmth. More than once, I saw her reprimand her daughter, and not once did she smile at her with any fondness. I had the feeling Ally’s choice of gown didn’t please her since, often, she glanced down at her dress. The more her mother spoke, the more uncomfortable Ally appeared to become.
Her husband, Ronald, was equally as dour. Even the fake pleasant expressions when they would greet other people seemed strained.
I had used the internet and done a little research on Ally’s family. I found a ton of information on Ronald and his business, and Sarah spent a lot of time on charity work. I found a few articles on the incident that killed Oliver. It was interesting to me how Ronald had used the exposure to further his own agenda, using Oliver’s memory, building it to the point he made him sound like a saint. He never mentioned Ally—ever.