Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
On this thought, I heard a woman shriek, “You were fucking her?”
I blinked at the door.
Holy shit.
Savannah was back in town.
I scurried off the bed, grabbed my panties, yanked them on, then hit up Eric’s thermal.
Through this, I heard his low murmuring and her shouting, “Only because you gave up on us!”
I pulled on his shirt and hustled down his long-ass hall.
I hit the mouth of the hall and stopped to see they were standing by the dining room table, just in from the front door.
Eric had his back to me, but when her eyes scorched a path my way, catching me standing there in his thermal, while he was standing there without it, and we both definitely had sex hair (though, I’d bet Eric’s was better), he looked over his bare shoulder at me.
His gaze dipped down, then up, he shook his head, but his lips quirked, and she didn’t miss the last.
“You think this is funny?” she demanded. “You’re fucking some other woman and it’s funny?”
“I don’t think it’s funny,” he said calmly. “I just like the view of my woman in my shirt.”
Although that brought back that gooey feeling I’d come to know very well, I watched it make her face turn a violent shade of red.
I then gave myself a second to take her in.
And for sure.
Eric had a type.
Tall. Dark hair. Beautiful.
I mean, I knew I wasn’t hard on the eyes, but I wouldn’t describe myself as beautiful.
Though, Eric did.
I was a little surprised about her aesthetic, though.
Both Stella and I had entirely different vibes, but they were pretty casual.
Savannah had on crisp skinny jeans, a skintight tan shell, a lightweight, overlong (to her calves) matching tan blazer-jacket with gold buttons, a gold statement necklace, chunky gold hoops and high-heeled nude pumps. She was also carrying a stuffy, structured Louis Vuitton purse in the standard brown and tan design.
Now, I’d admit to a small amount of envy she could pull off such a fantastic eyeliner wing. But in my opinion, she went a bit overboard on the highlighter, at least during an ambush of her ex (however, it’d be perfect for a night out). And I didn’t like to talk down about a sister—do you and work it—but it had to be said, her overuse of bronzer was practically criminal.
Or maybe it was fake tan since she had an orange-ish tint all over.
Eric took me out of my perusal by saying, “Savannah, it worries me I have to remind you we’ve been divorced for two years.”
“A divorce I didn’t want,” she reminded him in return.
“We’ve had this conversation too many times, so you need to know, I’m not doing this,” he warned.
“And I’m not doing this in front of her,” she snapped.
“No, you’re not doing it at all, because I’m going to put you out, and if you don’t leave my property, you’ll have to explain to the cops why you won’t,” he stated.
It was like he didn’t speak.
“I had one simple request. You work on us. And you can’t even give me that?” she demanded.
“He did, you just didn’t show up at the counseling sessions,” I muttered.
Eric dropped his head, though I was pretty sure I saw his shoulders shaking.
Hmm.
Even though it looked like he was silently laughing, from the expression on her face, maybe, as this rolled on to its conclusion, I should keep my mouth shut.
She stuck her arm straight out, finger pointing at me, and demanded, “You talked to her about”—she moved to flap that hand between them—“us?”
Eric’s head had snapped up at her point (the man really had a thing about people pointing at me), and after she finished speaking, he bit out, “You point at her again, Savannah, shit is gonna go south.”
Totally had a thing about people pointing at me.
“How much more south can it be?” she asked heatedly. “I’m currently standing in a home my husband doesn’t share with me with the woman he’s fucking.”
“Ex-husband,” he amended.
“Your choice, not mine,” she fired back.
I could tell things were turning for Eric in a huge way even before he asked, “You wanna know how much more?”
“Yeah, obviously,” she snarked.
But I could also tell by his tone she really, really didn’t.
He told her.
“This much more south, Savannah. She’s it. She’s the one I’ve been waiting for. She’s the one I would have left you for if I was still with you when I met her.”
Savannah gasped, which was good, she did it a lot louder than I did, so maybe Eric didn’t hear mine.
Though mine ended with that gooey feeling spreading, making me feel warm all over, and I reckoned hers didn’t end like that.
“I cannot believe you just said that to me,” she whispered.
I was right.
Hers didn’t end like that.
“You made me miserable,” Eric stated emotionlessly. “She makes me happy. And not only because, when I’m around her, I don’t feel the need to exhaust myself by dancing attendance. It’s easy. It’s quiet. She makes me laugh. Our lives fit into each other’s rather than Jess making me feel like mine is a burden and her life has to be my everything when she allows me a part in it. Every day, she does something to make me feel like I matter to her, or just matter at all. She’s honest. She shares. She’s not about bullshit. Shit is very real for Jess right now in a variety of ways, but she still asks about my day. She worries I’m not getting enough sleep. She gets in my space when we’re just talking because she likes to be close to me.”