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)
Oh fuck.
That did it.
A painful hiccup surged up my throat, I pressed my face deep into his neck, and the tears came.
Eric untangled his hand from my hair, wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and both of them held me close and tight.
He didn’t say a word. No murmurs of encouragement to get it out. No statements that it was going to be all right.
He was silent.
And very, very there.
Even when I quit crying, and nestled into him, my cheek to his chest, he didn’t say anything.
I really wanted to know what he was about, what was happening with us.
But in that moment, he felt so good, and it felt so good, having someone close, having someone hold me, specifically having him there, I couldn’t break that moment. I couldn’t mess it up.
I’d never had it, but I knew I needed it.
Especially from him.
So I went with it.
I fell asleep with it, just like that, held close in Eric Turner’s strong arms, cocooned in his long body.
But around eight hours later, in my bed, the covers tucked tight around me, I woke up alone.
SEVEN
WORTH IT
I’d texted the girls I was running late and told them I’d meet them at Brunch Snob.
Along the way, I did my best, but my best wasn’t good enough.
So when I finally arrived and swung into my seat in the kickass establishment (my chair having the word cutie on the back, others had tasty, sexy, naughty, queen and the like, the décor part of why Brunch Snob was the greatest, the fabulous food and drinks did the rest), I knew I hadn’t tamped down my shit mood that Eric had taken off…again…leaving me high and dry and totally confused.
I knew this, because the instant Luna got a load of me, she remarked, “Methinks someone didn’t sleep so great.”
The server showed, and I said, “Latte. Hot. Full fat. And your poutine.”
I hadn’t even looked at the menu.
But that day was a poutine day, for certain.
The girls all had drinks, but they ordered food when I did, and the server took off.
I launched in.
“Eric told me we’d talk last night, but I heard nothing from him. I thought he was playing games, and that’s bullshit. So I texted him.”
“He didn’t text back?” Harlow asked, looking and sounding deflated.
“No. My text barely took off before he phoned me.”
Harlow’s face lit up with a bright smile.
“We then got into the heavy, as seems our usual,” I went on. “We talked about Eric’s ex-wife—”
“Eric’s been married?” Luna asked, and she was looking and sounding shocked.
I nodded. “Big time chef. And crazy bitch. She didn’t want to lose him. But she also didn’t want a healthy marriage. She wanted him hanging in the wings while she worked on her professional dreams every waking hour of the day, not even connecting with him by replying to his texts. And she expected they’d hire a nanny when she popped out his kids. Eric wasn’t down with that, so he ended it before they had any kids.”
“She is a crazy bitch,” Luna agreed. “I mean, I get being into your career, but is the woman blind?”
Eric was a lot more than just gorgeous.
A whole lot.
Which was part of my current shitty mood.
“Then we got to talking about Jeff,” I continued.
They all leaned in to hear me share more about my beloved brother who I’d never shared much about.
I couldn’t freak out about that. I had to get the Eric shit out of the way so I could focus on finding said beloved brother.
“And I got overwhelmed by it. I didn’t want to share that with him, so I hung up on him.”
“Oh, Jessie,” Harlow murmured.
“Nope,” I said. “That’s not the bad part. The bad part is, I went into my zone so I could deal and get to the other side of it. And while I was doing it, Eric showed at my place.”
“Oh, Jessie,” Harlow chirped on an audible happy-clap.
“He picked me up, got in bed with me and held me, and we got even deeper about Jeff and life. And I started crying when he told me Jack did right by Rose in sacrificing himself for the chance she’d survive.”
“Holy shit,” Raye whispered.
“Yeah, that was when I started crying,” I stated.
“I didn’t think you were a crier,” Luna noted.
“I’m not. But, bitch, when I told him he didn’t have to come all the way over to my pad to be with me in my shitty zone, he said Jack did right by Rose in sacrificing himself. What was I supposed to do with that?”
“I’m not a crier either, and that’d make me cry,” Luna replied.
“It doesn’t make me cry. Jack totally could have gotten on the door with her,” Harlow said huffily. “I mean, they barely even tried.”
I ignored Harlow. She was totally a happily-ever-after-at-all-costs girl.