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)
I shake my head. “I just remembered… this is weird, but that’s how Kyle gave me his number. Exactly like that. I mean, that probably sounds silly because I guess a lot of people give out their number in a very similar way, but it even felt the same when it happened. I remember it so distinctly, I can’t explain…”
“Oh.” He nods, understanding flashing across his face. “Yeah. The guy was a shameless fucking copycat. Never had an original idea in his life. He probably saw me do it once, thought it looked cool, and put it in his generic bag of tricks to sell undiscerning women.”
There was definitely an insult in there, but that’s not what sticks in my brain as I turn around to look at myself in the dress.
It’s the fact that the very first interaction I had where I felt attracted to Kyle, he was just imitating Aiden. And, according to Aiden, it’s not even that surprising. He did it all the time. So what other mannerisms of his might he have been borrowing?
Did I ever really like Kyle?
Or… did I only like him because he was cosplaying as Aiden when I met him?
“That’s the one.”
I glance back at Aiden, startled, as his sharp gaze is locked on my reflection in the mirror.
I haven’t even noticed the dress yet, and it’s the first of three I have to try on, but when I look in the mirror, I actually see the dress now.
It’s a beautiful black lace dress that showcases my cleavage, but not in an overly showy way. Off-the-shoulder sleeves of delicate lace hang down each arm, and the middle section of the dress fits extremely well. It’s snug to keep everything in place so I won’t have to wear a bra with it, tight around the hips and it hugs my curves beautifully, but below the knee it turns flowy and loose, so I’ll be able to walk.
It’s sexy and elegant and absolutely beautiful.
It’s also expensive. “Do you want to look at the price tag first?” I ask, glancing back at him over my bare shoulder.
“Nope. Go change back into your clothes and we’ll pick out some shoes to go with it.”
“You don’t want to at least see the other two dresses?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Don’t need to. Once I see something I like, that’s it. I don’t change my mind.”
“Okay then,” I say, picking up my delicate lace skirt and making my way back to the dressing room.
___
I spend the rest of my evening after Aiden drops me off from the shopping trip listening to Begin Again—the song I listened to back when I was a clueless idiot who had bumped into Kyle in that café—and re-examining things.
Looking closer, I feel like the jokes were stupid and maybe even mildly offensive, it was the commanding style I responded to. Kyle felt self-assured that day, but he wasn’t. He felt like he knew what he was doing, but he didn’t.
Aiden is. Aiden does.
And the more I think about it, the more weirded out I get.
Because what if I liked Aiden all along?
There are things about him that definitely irritate me, but there are things Killian did to irritate me, too. Those things mostly ended up being sexual tension, or at least turning into it.
I don’t truly want anyone but Killian, but…
Aiden isn’t engaged to someone else, so that’s a big point in his favor.
I fall asleep petting Toast and thinking about the past, but at least it’s part of the past that doesn’t make me sad.
I wake up to my phone vibrating on the bed beside me.
I shake myself awake, grabbing my phone and turning the screen to look.
It’s my mom, but it’s late. Why is she texting me this late?
And then my phone buzzes again and I realize it’s not a text. It’s a call.
I push myself up in my bed, leaning back against the wall and looking down at my phone like it’s a rat that might crawl on me. I don’t touch it until the ringing stops, and then I see a text flash across the screen.
“Please answer your phone, I need to talk to you!!!”
Excessive use of exclamation points, but… something might be wrong.
Do I care? She certainly didn’t care when something was wrong in my life, and I’ve washed my hands of them completely, so I’m not sure I do.
But it’s the first time I think about texting back.
Turns out, I don’t have to.
Another text comes through.
“We’ve been robbed! Someone broke into our house Brynn!! They shot AJ. They took your sister and no one believes me. They think she’s involved, they found these sick letters and they say she wrote them but she wouldn’t write this shit! I need you to talk to the police and tell them she wasn’t a writer. That she’d never write this kind of crap. They’ve got it all wrong and they won’t listen to me!!”