Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
The doors begin to close.
“Derek?” she tries.
“Not tonight. I’ll phone you tomorrow,” he states. “I mean it, Grace. Not. Tonight.”
The doors close on her, so I stare at the rising lights. Before we get to the top floor, my eyes bounce his way and he’s staring at me with that big smile on his face. Those cartoon hearts in his eyes.
Of course he’s happy. Quite a coup tonight.
I stare at him with what must be an absolutely dumbfounded expression, I don’t know, but the ding of our arrival to his floor breaks the spell and I’m the first to depart the little box.
When I get to his apartment door, I press my thumb to the small screen and the door clicks.
I follow her as she marches through my apartment, throwing her jacket off as she heads down the hall. It lands on the floor in front of me.
I’m still directly behind her as she gets into my bedroom and kicks off her shoes, throws the covers back, and climbs into the bed. She buries herself under the blanket. Her entire self, head and all.
I watch for a moment and surmising she needs a minute, I set her bags down on the chair in the corner and take the paper bag containing the soup and donuts to the kitchen.
I hunt through the cupboards for the glass platter with the dome lid that I know is here somewhere.
This kitchen is well-equipped; my parents’ designer saw to that to give everyone a fully functional place here in the city, but I know we won’t be staying here long.
I’ve got many surprises in store for her.
I’ve set a bottle of water and a glass of her favorite wine on the table beside her. She’s still under the blankets.
“Chloe?”
She doesn’t answer.
“I’ll run you a bath,” I offer.
She still doesn’t answer.
“Your bath is ready, baby,” I say.
A sniffle is my only reply.
I hear my phone, so I go find it on the console table by the door.
Grace.
I answer with, “What did I say?”
“Who is she? What’s the story? I’m shocked, Derek. Shocked. A girlfriend? That big smile on your face? The frown on hers? What’s all that about? What’s going on? You have to give me something. I saw her the other day and she didn’t look like an escort or a porn star, but girlfriend?”
“Leave it alone, Grace.”
“Not a chance.”
“It’s love,” I say, simply. Because I think that’s what this is. There’s no other apparent explanation.
She laughs.
And now I’m irritated.
“No. For real,” she prompts.
“For real,” I state. “I can’t do this right now. I’m busy.”
“She doesn’t look in love. That’s the second time I’ve seen her and both times she has looked distraught.”
“I can’t talk. I’ll call you later.”
“In a fight? First girlfriend. Second fight?” she pushes.
“Bye Grace.” I end the call, pour myself a bourbon, and wander back to the bedroom.
Chloe is still under the covers.
I figured there’d be a fight. Maybe some yelling. Maybe some threats coming at me. Some slaps or claws. I was looking forward to wrestling her into submission and showing her how good it’s gonna be.
But she’s under the blankets like a lump.
“The bath’s gonna get cold,” I tell her.
I undress and get into bed beside her. I’ve already let the water out of the tub after it sat for over an hour and made some calls to arrange a surprise for her. I prop my cheek on my hand while on my side facing the lump under my covers.
She’s still. Too still. Like she’s holding her body taut while also holding her breath.
I quickly yank the blanket, exposing her.
She looks completely wrecked. Beyond distraught.
And something strange happens. It lands like ice shards sinking into my chest.
I don’t know what to do with it. I’ve finally got her where I want her. And she looks like her world has fallen apart. It has. But it wasn’t the right world for her. She was in a world built on picking the wrong man. She’ll see that.
I push away the urge to turn the lamp off, so I don’t have to see it. Don’t have to see the messy hair, the bloodshot puffy eyes, the downturned pretty mouth.
Instead I roll over and gather her into my arms, tucking her head under my chin so I can comfort her.
She struggles.
“No,” she cries out brokenly.
I hush her, pressing my mouth to her forehead.
“I’m gonna make it all better,” I promise her and stroke her back with both hands.
But I’ve probably set myself back with this change in plans. No point ruminating on it, though. Now I’ve got access to her 24/7 and he doesn’t. He will never have access to her again. I won’t have to watch them in the same bed. I won’t have to see him put his mouth on her either. Nobody gets to hold her like this. Only me. And that settles something in me.