Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“It doesn’t matter now,” he sighs. “It’s over and done, but we’re here now, and I’ll spend every single day fixing this.”
I start to protest, but he stops me.
“And I’ll wait, Luci, because I know right now you don’t want to admit it, but I have no doubt that you still have feelings for me too… and more than just hate,” he adds, still so cocky. “Although I’m sure that’s there as well. But how can you not still feel something, after what we had?”
Before I even get the chance to reply, he raises his hand, calling the waitress over to take our orders.
“What’ll we have?” She asks, and he motions for me to go first.
“Wow,” I exclaim sarcastically. “Thanks so much for letting me make my own decision!” It’s a mean comeback, but I have to say something, since apparently he decided so much that involved me all on his own.
“I can come back,” the waitress hesitates.
“It’s okay,” I offer her a small smile. “I’ll have the ravioli, and he’ll have the chicken parm with angel hair instead of linguini.”
He’s staring my way as the waitress walks away, half mad, half smirking.
“Maybe I wanted the veal.” He’s biting his cheek, hiding his amusement.
“Maybe you need to learn you can’t make the decisions you did on behalf of someone else,” I swallow. “And maybe I’m a different person now. One you can’t possibly still have feelings for.”
“No, you’re still the Luci I know,” he insists.
I give him a look of disbelief, only to be met by his challenging smile.
“You’re majoring in what?” He smirks, and I shake my head, seeing he already knows the answer.
“Math,” I answer anyway.
“There’s little, if anything, you hate more than math,” he sighs. “You struggle with it. So what else is the Luci I know to do but major in it? Not something she loves, like English. No, math, because she doesn’t get it, but desperately wants to. She wants to be good at it, and it’s just your type of endeavor to prove to yourself that you can… and you excel, I’m sure,” his smile widens. “In fact, I bet you’re fantastic at it now.”
I say nothing, because of course he’s right.
“Plus, you’re graduating this year, when technically you should only be a junior. How is that?” He laughs. “Always so committed and determined.”
“Because…” I hesitate as a chill creeps over me. “What else was I supposed to do to take my mind off of you?”
I can tell by the way his eyes water and the color fades that my words punch him. I don’t mean to evoke such a reaction. Despite everything, I don’t wish even an ounce of my sadness or hurt on anyone, not even him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers just as the waitress returns with our salads.
He orders two glasses of wine, and we’re both silent as we eat.
I swallow my first few bites, and his stare cuts into me. “I can’t do it again. You had your reasons for what you did, and maybe it’s selfish of me too, but I wanted to be your first choice.” I put my fork down.
“Say you are telling the truth-”
“I am!” He practically shouts.
“Say you didn’t live with her, and you really were in the midst of a divorce when we met,” I pause again, “You found out about this kid in the middle of our… tryst,” I question the word, not knowing what to call what we had. “You could have still been involved with your child, but why did you have to go back to her? Why not me?” I’ve always wondered, and I hate that I ask it. “And I know,” I continue, before he has the chance to answer. “I was young and in high school, well, leaving high school, but why should that have ever mattered?” Because it shouldn’t!” I answer immediately. “Not if, as you claimed at the time, that you had loved me.”
His hand is gripping tightly against his fork. He opens his mouth, but I don’t let him get anything out.
“When did I come across as this poor decision maker that you felt the need to make such a big one for me? And I get it,” I jump just as he opens his mouth again. “And we can play at that argument too. I was young. I was your student. I understood how we could never work at the time, but what about in September, or hey, what about the next September, or this past September?”
“I told you-” He starts.
“You weren’t a mistake to me!” I confess a little too loudly. “And if for some reason you turned out to be, it was one I was willing to make!” My eyes start to water, and he reaches his hand across the table.
“Maybe I’m over it!” I lower my voice, pulling my hand back before he gets to it. I take a deep breath, wiping my eyes, and whatever he was going to say is gone.