Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Anger rolls through me. How can I find an ounce of attraction to a man who caused such devastation? I hate myself more for laying that back at his feet. Have I learned nothing? I need to hold on to the anger. Forgiveness could lead to opening the door to him, and once a Haywood is allowed entrance to your life, they destroy the whole thing.
“I think we’re past the weather. Let’s circle back to Reed and how the child in the photo shares your eyes and my name.”
He sees through me, something he always did. I could try to beat around the bush to buy time or even eat brunch like this isn’t going to always go back to my son. I pick up my fork to distract one of us, though I’m not sure which one.
“Hey,” he says, breaking through my frenzied thoughts. Lowering his hands to his lap, he sits forward. “Talk to me.”
“I can explain.”
“I know you can, Story.” He sits back again, settling in for more than a casual chat over coffee. “I want to hear everything. You don’t have to hold back with me.”
He’s too calm, too in control of his emotions when it feels like our next storm is brewing inside me. Did he already know? I can’t read his mood, his expression, or even his tone like I used to. Is he happy about this news or upset? Is he trying to set me up to take me to court, or is he being sincere?
Who am I kidding?
I can’t hide any longer—hide in plain sight, living my life, as I’ve done for the past six years.
Reed looks just like him, but with my hazel eyes. I won’t be able to lie. Regret fills me as my heart starts beating erratically. I should have never entered the photo into the collection. It’s not even for sale. It’s just near and dear to my heart for obvious reasons.
I’ll take him. I’ll take him somewhere far away if I’m threatened.
I need to protect my son. If Cooper knows, he could try to take him from me. He’ll win because I withheld the information. No judge will believe the girl from the wrong side of the tracks versus a name synonymous with prestige in this city. Cooper has more money than the devil. I can’t fight against that. My good intentions will never win against the evil of Haywood money.
Panicking again, I feel my hands begin to shake. Before I have time to tuck them under the table, he reaches over and covers one. “I meant what I said. I don’t blame you for what you did.” I hadn’t noticed how the panic had subsided or how my hands calmed under his. I didn’t notice until he sat back again. “I’m not mad. I’m . . .” Now he struggles to find the words like I do.
He dips his gaze to the napkin in his lap. If I were to take a photo of him, I’d name it Defeated Man.
The past doesn’t weigh me down so much when I realize how much of the burden he’s been carrying. Two minutes ago, I almost went to the bathroom and left, ready to disappear until my son . . . our son turned eighteen. But when Cooper looks up, he has tears in his eyes, muting the brighter green into a soothing sage, though I find no comfort in the downfall of Cooper Haywood. He is a victim of his circumstances.
The same as I am.
He says, “You saved him, which is something no one did for me.”
My heart pangs in my chest, every heartstring that once connected me to this man reattaches. I can’t let my guard down.
“Story . . .” The reverence in his voice is heard as if it’s the lifeline he’s clinging to. Is that what he thinks I can do? Save him by sacrificing my son to the Haywood family tree? “Tell me the truth, Story.”
There’s no anger in his words, nothing but pain defacing his features. I hate how weak I feel. My mom buried us in her lies. I would never want to encumber Reed the same way. I’m not sure what to say, so I stick to silence and try to navigate through the conversation.
Cooper turns his attention to his coffee and takes a drink. When he lowers it again, he says, “I have no contact with my family.”
“I don’t know what to say to that.” I twist the cloth napkin in my lap. “I’m sorry or good for you?”
An easy chuckle breaks through the heaviness, freeing his lips to smile. “The latter probably works best. I sued them.”
Oh. “I didn’t expect you to say that. That must have been very difficult to go through.”
“To go through, yes. To do,” he says, shaking his head. “Not at all. I should have done it sooner. It might have saved us.” His gaze drops with his chin. When he peeks back up, I can see he’s embarrassed—something I never saw on him when we were dating. A light pink even appearing on the apples of his cheeks.