Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
“Carmichael spread himself as far as I did. You know that.” Her nose lifts in an act of vigor. “You must be paranoid, or you wouldn’t ask. Obviously, Ava hasn’t given you the reassurance you need.”
Oh, she’s given me plenty of reassurance. I throw Sarah a dirty look and leave before she presses some more and figures out that Ava doesn’t actually know how old her boyfriend is. I’m too mature to be a boyfriend. Regrettably, I’m not in my twenties like my . . . girlfriend? I roll my eyes.
“Where are you going?” Sarah calls. “I need to go over the schedule for the anniversary party with you.”
I stop and look back, finding her waving a file.
“The guest numbers need confirming, and the party bags putting together. And the business bank manager will be here at four thirty to update and verify our identities.”
“You want me to help put party bags together?”
“Just give me some time, will you? I’ve been doing this all on my own while you’re off out there behaving like a crazy bastard.” She gives me a pleading look. I hate that look. It’s a guilt-inducing look. Damn her. She’s always managed just fine without me, regardless of the workload. Why now does she desperately want me around?
It’s a stupid question. Besides, I need to kill time.
Beaten, I trudge back to my desk, pulling my phone from my pocket when it rings. And with it, I manage to pull out Ava’s contraceptive pills too. They hit the floor with a little ding, and I stare at them for way too long before I register my brain screaming at me to pick them the fuck up before Sarah does. I dip fast and swipe them from the floor, stuffing them back in my pocket, not daring to look at Sarah. Would she know what they are? Would she click?
Fuck it. My phone continues to ring, offering me the perfect distraction to buy time and compile some bullshit story about Ava leaving them in my car. Until I see who’s calling me.
I heart jumps into my throat, and I reject Amalie’s call and drop to my chair, tossing my mobile onto my desk as Sarah lowers warily on the other side. I peek up at her, my jaw rolling. “Okay?” she asks.
“Fine,” I grunt, as my phone starts vibrating across the wood.
Sarah cranes her neck, and her lips form a straight line. I will her to keep her trap shut. I do not need a lecture on why I’m avoiding my sister’s constant attempts to reach me. It rings off, and a moment later, a voicemail alert sounds. I reach for my phone and calmly clear the screen.
“It’s your birthday a week today,” Sarah says quietly.
“I don’t do birthdays.” Like I have to remind her. They’re too hard. Too painful. And this year? Fuck, I’m dreading it. No alcohol to drown in. To help me pass the day as quickly and as pain free as possible. “So, the final numbers,” I go on, looking up at her, sounding completely together. I’m not. Jake should be here. He deserves to be here. It should have been me.
“Jesse?”
I blink, jerk, and inhale. “Numbers,” I croak, clearing my throat.
“Seven fifty.” Sarah slides a spreadsheet across to me, eyeing me closely. I collect it and skim to the page I need, running my eyes down the list of names. “Remove Freja Van Der Haus,” I order, tossing it back across my desk. Jesus, that might be a terrible move, but she can’t be here if Ava is, and Ava is definitely going to be here. On my arm. All night. “And add Ava.”
“What?”
“And make sure she’s at my table.”
“She’s not been here since she found out what this place is and left you, and you want to bring her on the busiest night of the year?” She looks exasperated.
“Yes.” She’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. Just as soon as I’ve explained to Ava that The Manor anniversary event isn’t a giant orgy. At least, not downstairs before ten thirty.
“And what do I tell Freja Van Der Haus?”
“No fucking idea.”
“Helpful.”
My phone starts dancing across my desk again, but this time it’s John, thank God. I answer, not bothering to excuse myself from Sarah. “John?”
“I dropped her off to get her car.”
I frown. “Why? You were supposed to take her to work.”
“Well, she asked me to take her home to get her car.”
“It’s not her home,” I bark, making Sarah’s eyes widen and John curse his arse off at me. I compose myself. Not crazy. “Ava’s moved in with me.”
Sarah’s eyes go rounder, and I glare at her, daring her to pass comment. But John can’t see my warning look. “Does Ava know that?” he asks, flat and coolly.
“Fuck off. You’re a shit chaperone.” I hang up, well aware that I’ve just signed my death warrant and lost Ava’s chaperone. “Next?” I ask Sarah expectantly.