Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
Wow. So I was slotted in as an alternative. I stare at the sky for a moment before my eyes bounce back to my screen and I continue reading her text.
He’s having money problems. I don’t know details, but from a quick convo with my mother he is devastated the wedding is off but she also says he’s having cashflow probs because of a bad deal at work and was counting on his inheritance which will now be screwed because of the breakup and the joke will. She insists that’s not why he was rushing the wedding but says she doesn’t have the cashflow to help him out of his jam so if he can’t figure his shit (meaning get you to the church on time) out she wants me to bail him out to the tune of 570K. Jerk-face can figure his own stuff out. I’m so sorry this happened to you. He’s a cretin. Will let you know if I find out more.
I read it twice before I take a deep breath and reply.
Me: Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.
I get just one sip of my too-hot tea into my mouth before she responds.
Gloria: I hate this.
Me, too.
She dings me again not a minute later.
Gloria: I’m so sad we’re not going to be sisters. I hope we’ll still be friends. You have a place to stay anytime you come across the pond and I’m coming there anyway since my flight was already booked for the wedding. I plan to give my brother a piece of my mind, visit Grandma and hit some of my favorite old haunts. Want to meet up for sushi?
Me: I’m not sure. Can I let you know?
Gloria: Sure thing. At least a coffee, I hope. I’ll be there for four days.
Me: I’m out of town taking a breather. No promises but hopefully we can connect.
Three missed calls are from Rick. I turn the phone off.
He used me. He cheated. At least I found out before promising to spend the rest of my life with him, for better or for worse. Because it’s looking like it would have been a whole lot of for worse.
Once he got the fat check, maybe he’d have ended it so he could be with the cunty wedding planner. I’m not sure I even care all that much. Did I even love him or was I just going along with it because he asked? Because he said he loved me?
There’s a man in that bed who wants me, who strangely thinks he loves me despite barely knowing me. And at this moment, I think I’m going to go wake him up and have more sex.
Maybe get him to chase me some more.
Maybe let him catch me and keep me. Forever.
Maybe that is what’s supposed to happen.
40
Mason
I jackknife up in bed, startled by a loud crash. Something’s wrong with Amelia. Panic assaults me from the inside out. It’s our bond.
As soon as I’m on my feet, I hear her cry of distress and follow my nose to the deck off the bedroom. No Amelia. What? I can’t compute this at all because I smell her.
I hear her again, so peer over the railing. She’s dangling, hanging onto two spindles of the deck. A ladder lies on the grass below.
She whimpers. “I can’t hold on.”
“What the fuck? Hang on, baby.”
It’d be twenty feet to the ground, but it’d likely be more as she could fall into my empty swimming pool.
“This might get loud, Amie. Don’t startle. Just hang on. It’ll be half a sec.”
“I can’t, Mason. I’m weak as fuck.”
“Half a...” I reach out and gripping the handrail with both hands, yank up the entire section – “sec…”
I toss it behind me and as it crashes onto the patio furniture. I grab one deck post and a spindle a foot to the right of Amie’s left hand, and yank, hauling them both up so I can reach to the left and catch her by both wrists.
“Let go,” I demand.
She whimpers. She’s still hanging on, too tight, to one spindle, one rim joist. Likely running on pure adrenaline. I don’t want to yank too hard and hurt her.
“I’ve got you, baby. Let go.”
She finally loosens her grip and I haul her up and fall back on my ass as she collapses into my body.
Immediately, she’s bawling, body bucking with her sobs.
I wrap her tight, ignoring the decking material poking my lower back.
“Got you,” I say, “It’s okay.” I purr for her.
She sighs out a lengthy breath and melts like butter into me.
I purr for a solid three minutes, while stroking her hair before I get to my feet and carry her back inside, curling up on the big round chair in the corner with her on my lap, her head tucked under my chin.