Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I woke up this morning to no texts from Bishop, and that made me sick at heart. He’d frantically tried to reach me yesterday, but I knew that if I spoke to him, I’d talk myself out of coming to New York, and I knew instinctively I needed to get away. But there was nothing from him today, and I wasn’t sure if that was a kiss-off or what. I do intend to call him, and that will most likely be today.
At some point.
Maybe tomorrow.
It’s not to say I didn’t have texts, though. There were several, mostly from old friends and acquaintances who had been watching this sordid story unfold in the hockey sports world. Of course, the big news was the multimillion-dollar lawsuit Nanette had filed against the newly minted sports franchise. But it didn’t mean people didn’t want to talk about the juicy stuff like Bishop and me perpetrating a false relationship while I had a scandalous affair with Sebastian in order to beat Nanette out of a job. That’s actually what was being reported, and it made me sick to my stomach.
There was one text that made me feel a little bit better, and weirdly, it was from Dominik Carlson. I didn’t give him my number, but I’m sure it was easily accessible to him. It was a bit lengthy for a text, but I sort of got the feeling that was his preferred method of communication.
It had said, Hope you are feeling better today. The news is out and it’s going to be brutal for a while. The team’s official position is that Nanette’s allegations are 100 percent false and will be easily disproved in court. Also, we are dismissing the rumors about you and Bishop as being petty and vindictive, and also are no one’s business. Just be prepared…reporters will call you. It is up to you and Bishop to issue any or no statement at all, but whatever you do, you both have our full support. Keep your chin up. Your job is waiting for you.
It was a really nice text.
It made me realize that I had to seriously consider a return to Phoenix. When I’d left, my mind was firmly made up that I was going to come back to New York permanently and take Elizabeth’s offer of my old job back. Of course, the terrible ache of missing Bishop had me reconsidering it. Dominik’s text made me also reconsider.
The walk to Elizabeth’s is nice, punctuated every so often by trees planted right into the New York sidewalks. Her building is made of taupe-colored bricks, and because there’s some construction going on, the entrance is covered by a tented walkway. My focus is on that as I approach, but just before I reach her apartment building’s entrance, the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
I stop midstride, ignoring the man who had to quickly step around me to avoid running me over as he curses at me, and look around. Let my gaze sweep in an arc, across the street to a small community garden surrounded by wrought iron fencing with sharp spires on top. Sitting on a bench right in front of it is Bishop.
He’s leaning back, both arms stretched out, and casually resting an ankle on one knee. He’s wearing a suit that’s wrinkled and rumpled in a way that tells me he’s been in it for a while. Given that he should have been on a plane yesterday flying from Washington to Phoenix, and I’m assuming immediately flew from Phoenix here to New York, he looks appropriately disheveled.
As I stare at him, he merely raises a hand to wave at me.
I can read nothing on his face—not anger or disappointment. He doesn’t seem bent out of shape because he’s chased me across the country. Yes, he appears to be a little tired, but that’s a given. However, he doesn’t look happy to see me either. Maybe a bit resigned.
While I’d like to turn tail and run into the safety of Elizabeth’s building, which has a security pad on the door, I know that I have no choice but to find out why Bishop is here.
Stepping to the edge of the sidewalk between two cars parallel parked there, I check the oncoming traffic to my left since it’s a one-way street before making my way across to him.
He studies me as I move closer, eye sweeping from face to toes and back up again, before they really only roam over my face. He’s trying to read me the way I was reading him, and whereas I’d normally see only bold confidence in Bishop’s eyes, I see nothing but hesitancy there now. It doesn’t bode well for either of us.
“Hey,” I say as I step onto the sidewalk and come to stand in front of him.