Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Knowing she’d probably threaten my manhood, I braced myself and hit send.
Me: I need to talk to her. But I need her to hear me.
Raelynn: Fuck off.
Me: Please.
Raelynn: I may be listening but no guarantees. Maybe if you beg more.
Me: I fucked up—with her. Not you. I’ll happily beg for her.
Raelynn: Girl code states if you fuck up with her, you fuck up with the friends. Honestly, I’d be more scared of Nova than me right now.
Me: I’ll make it up to you all, but I can’t if she won’t even listen to me.
Raelynn: Oh, you mean she didn’t respond to the most curt message demanding a time to talk. Wow. I’m shooketh.
Me: Jesus.
Me: Like I said, I fucked up. I won’t explain to you because it’s between us, but I want to make it better for her. Even if it’s not better for me.
Me: But I can’t do that if she won’t talk to me.
Raelynn: Do you love her?
Me: That’s between Vera and me.
Raelynn: …
Raelynn: Fine. Maybe I can help orchestrate a time to talk.
Raelynn: But if you make it worse. I’ll rip your eyes out.
Me: Noted.
One of the four-hundred bands squeezing my chest snapped loose. It still hurt to breathe without her, but I’d take the iota of release reaching out to Rae gave me. She laid out when I could come over the weekend and said she would help keep Vera there to hear me out.
It didn’t guarantee me anything, but at least it was a start.
I went to work the next day, barely focusing on the new project that Vera should have been heading under Domenic, hunting through every bit of knowledge I had to come up with what I would say this weekend. When Ryan delivered the thick file holding the official contract for Mariano Shipping Inc for me to sign, I couldn’t even bring myself to open it.
I took it home and finally opened it up for review when the twinkling stars of the night were my only company shining through the large windows Vera had loved so much.
Mariano Shipping had been hurting for longer than I’d assumed. Lorenzo had run the company to the brink of destruction all on his own. The clauses in the contract outlining their traditional views had been the only thing that had almost saved him. But it’d only been a matter of time before he lost it all on his own.
Maybe if Vera saw this, she’d be more understanding. She’d see her father had ruined it all before I stole it.
Yeah, show her how her family company was on the brink of destruction—the thing she’d worked so hard for and loved, if only for the connection to her mother. That’d go awesome.
I shook my head and growled at nothing.
A vision of Vera lounging topless on the deck, smiling as she told me about her mom and how much she’d loved the company but loved the traditions more. She’d admitted she wanted them both to feel the connection to her mom and hated that her father cut her out without even trying.
And I’d stolen it—the last part of her mom—and never made a bigger effort to let her know she could have it. She’d probably spent the week mourning the last piece of her mom she had left—and I’d let her because of my pride.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
My phone rang, pulling me from the mess in front of me.
“Archer,” I greeted.
“Nicholas. I just saw the papers.”
“Yeah, I got them today,” I said, looking down at the stacks strewn across my dining room table.
“So, does this mean we’re keeping Mariano Shipping for ourselves?”
I flipped through the pages, looking for the added notes about selling the company in relation to Vera. When I saw they were still there, my brows scrunched in confusion. “What? The clauses about the sale are still here. Why would you assume it wasn’t going to Vera?”
“Because she filed for divorce. You said you got the papers.”
Like a needle to a balloon, it started small, the air seeping out as realization hit. Then it hit like a knife, popping my hope like a gunshot to the chest.
Divorce.
Divorce.
She didn’t even talk to me.
She didn’t even give me a chance.
Did she even care to know why? Did she even care at all? Her laughing. Her moaning. Her scowling. Her gloating. All of it like snapshots firing in my brain. All of it vanishing.
She didn’t even give me a chance.
How dare she make this decision without even giving me. A. Chance.
I clenched the phone tight, the edges digging into my palm.
I realized then that the thought that I’d be okay with her walking away was a lie. I’d had hope that once she heard me out, she’d understand—she’d forgive me, and we’d figure it out together. And if she hadn’t, then I would have fought tooth and nail to win her back because I knew she cared—I’d hoped she’d cared as much as I did for her. I’d hoped my love was enough.