Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
It’s the only trickle down I’m ever gonna see from a billionaire in my lifetime, so I’m keeping it.
I use some of my money to buy Addison the perfect “thank you for hosting me when my heart was broken” gift. I don’t want to get her something ordinary because Addison is not ordinary, so I decide to splurge on a custom water bottle that says, “He’s not Kenough.”
When I give it to her, it makes her so happy, you’d think it was $10,000. She squeezes me tight, says, “You have no idea how much I love this,” then snaps a picture of it on her desk and immediately sends it to her family group chat.
I have to make some sacrifices to avoid Killian.
I have to give up my Tuesday seminars.
I figure come spring semester, he’ll have moved on and I can start going to them again, but right now, my determination to be strong and stay out of his way is too fragile. I can’t let him force his presence on me; I might break immediately, and I don’t want to let him think I’m going to play this game with him.
I don’t want to be anyone’s mistress, not even his.
I don’t give up the gym on Wednesday, though, and that proves my fatal mistake.
It’s a warmer day than usual, so I leave the gym with my hair in a ponytail, my yoga pants on, wearing just a sweater I bought myself from the school merch shop. The air is crisp, and the breeze feels nice against my flushed skin. I’m drinking out of the water bottle Addison ordered me after I ordered hers, which reads, “Addison’s favorite Barbie.”
And then there he is, standing at the bottom of the steps out of the building.
He’s wearing a gray hoodie and sweatpants, so it’s possible he’s just here to work out too, but I doubt it. He knows what time I come to the gym, and he had to know he’d run into me.
“You’re a hard woman to pin down these days,” he states.
Once my heart returns to my chest, I take the steps casually, as if unaffected by him. “That’s by design,” I say, flashing him a sweet smile as I brush past him.
He sighs, and I know it’s partially for show, but I think it’s a little real, too. “You’re killing me.”
He’s killing me, too. I don’t know why I did that. His scent caught the air and now my stomach hurts, but I don’t let it show.
We broke up, and we are never ever getting back together.
Killian texts me every single day, even though I’ve never once texted him back. I keep waiting—with no small measure of dread—for the day the texts stop coming, but I guess he’s still waiting for me to cave because it hasn’t happened yet.
Killian falls into step beside me, and my heart jumps a little, being so close to him. “Please don’t follow me,” I say.
“Why?”
“Aren’t you here to work out?” I say, lifting my eyebrows and nodding back toward the building.
“You think I need to? Here, give my bicep a squeeze and see how it feels.”
I slide him a look as he holds his arm up, his eyes twinkling.
God, I wish I hated him.
Life would be so much easier if I hated him.
I can see why Sloane picked him, though. If I had all the money in the world and the ability to buy myself any husband I wanted, I’d pick him, too.
Charming bastard.
Too much time has passed, though, and I know that despite his resentment over her methods, he has surely given in to being her boyfriend now. Despite her remark about having kissed him at lunch that day, it didn’t feel that way until I saw him touch her during Double Ryan night, and even that he explained away as essentially using her to get to me.
But I’ve also accepted the fact that he could have simply been lying to me.
I only know what I see of them on her social media—he never posts her, but he was never a big poster to begin with—but they look like a real couple as far as I can tell.
And I know that means he’s probably slept with her, and that means that no matter how charming I still find him, no matter how his scent affects me or his smirk tugs at my heart, I am done with him.
I want a man who’s all mine, or I don’t want him at all.
I don’t share, either.
I haven’t tried dating, but I won’t until I’m sure he’s over me. Until then, I do not expect it to go well, and to be honest, I’m not eager to get into another romantic relationship. The one with him will have left scars, and I figure I should probably take a little time to let the wounds heal before I start over with someone new.