Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
“I’m fine,” I reply. He won’t know what to do with me if I offload what I offloaded on Sam this morning, so I keep it simple. I raise a brow at Sam when he scoffs. “Really,” I add. “Tell me what’s happening.” I need to divert the subject from me. Try to find some kind of normality. Hilarious. We definitely don’t normally meet for a coffee and a chat. More like a drink and a fuck.
Both of my mates are silent, and I look between them a few times. “You’ve got nothing to tell me?” I ask. Nothing at all? Sam shrugs and Drew stirs his coffee. “We do coffee meets in style,” I mutter, just as Sam’s phone dings on the table. His arm shoots out like lightning, swiping it up. Jesus, I’ve never seen him move so fast. Unless he’s got rope in his hands. “Urgent?” I ask, watching as he shifts in his chair awkwardly.
“Nope.”
Drew chuckles, and I turn my eyes onto him. He straightens his face immediately. “What’s going on?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing.”
“For fuck’s sake.” I slam my coffee down and stand. “You two were supposed to be a better option than kicking my fucking heels around my penthouse. Think I’ll go watch some crappy TV alone.”
Sam sags, flicking his gaze to Drew, who shrugs. “It’s Kate.” Sam flashes the screen of his phone at me. “She’s out with Ava.”
I freeze with my hands on the back of the chair, ready to push it under the table. My throat clogs up. My skin prickles. “That’s nice.” I strain the words, my mind off on a tangent. She’s out drinking. Socializing. Getting attention from men probably closer to her age. So while I’ve been slowly dying on the inside, she’s been living it up? It feels like someone’s just plunged a dagger in my heart and twisted the fucker. When did I become such a dramatic wanker?
“Sit down,” Drew orders shortly, leaning over and pushing the chair out again. I practically fall onto it, in absolute agony. “Drink.” He physically places a bottle of opened water in my hand. “What are you thinking?” he asks.
“You don’t want to know,” I reply, taking a needed swig of cold liquid. I’m thinking I want to find her, toss her over my shoulder like a barbarian, and cart her back to my cave. And kill anyone who tries to stop me.
“Yes, actually, I do.” Drew turns in toward me, his head tilted in question. “What is it about this woman?”
I laugh, and it’s unstoppable. Why does everyone keep asking me that obtuse question? And why the fuck did I ask myself that? It’s a perfectly reasonable enquiry to the man who’s never shown any interest in a woman unless he’s half-cut and wants to put his dick inside her.
“Well?” he presses, and I frown.
How did I explain it again? “Drink makes me forget everything,” I say, slowly spinning my bottle of water on the table, studying it. “It numbs the pain.” I take a deep breath and exhale, sinking into my chair. “But I don’t want to forget her, and I like the feelings she provokes.”
Drew gives Sam surprised eyes. “Even that temper of yours that’s come out to play lately?”
I laugh. “She’s frustrating, yes.” I smile, thinking about all the times she’s fought me and lost. “Unreasonable, and that drives me crazy, yes.” I look up at him. “But it still feels good. Fucked up, right?”
“It feels good to feel crazy?”
“She challenges me. I like it. She sets my insides alight, and I really like that. But most of all, I love the feeling of my heart beating for the first time in forever.” As if it deserves to.
Drew sits back, alarmed, and Sam smiles across the table at me.
For fuck’s sake. Apparently, she’s also turned me into a girl. I scowl at my water, recalling what Sam said to me earlier. Ava’s moping. But now I’ve heard she’s out drinking. Drinking makes people forget, Ward. And that’s a good thing for her. She needs to forget about me.
No, she doesn’t.
Yes, she fucking does.
My teeth start to grind. How many men will she need to fuck to get me out of her head? Am I already out? I can’t be because Kate said she’s moping. She doesn’t want to forget you, Ward. Pull your head out of your arse. Do something about this. I frown, looking across the street when I hear a commotion, seeing a man staggering out of a pub, pinballing off people, parked cars, walls. Erratic. Out of control. Constrained. And suddenly it’s not a man I don’t know. It’s me.
* * *
“What’s up there?” I ask as we round the gallery landing, Uncle Carmichael up front, John behind me, as if they’re guarding me. I stop by the stained-glass window and look up to the wooden doors at the top of the second flight of stairs, hearing soft, erotic music playing. It’s the first time I’ve been allowed past Carmichael’s private apartment.