Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
A family I would have with some other man.
I sat on the folding chair and drank the bottle of wine I’d bought for myself. I didn’t have internet and I didn’t want to use the data on my phone, so I only had my thoughts for entertainment. Unfortunately, all I could think about was the man who didn’t want me, who preferred to go back to his old ways and forget about me.
How could he do all of this for me but not want me?
I would much rather keep all my debt and lose this house to have him instead.
He was all I needed to be happy.
The doorbell rang as I sat there with my gloomy thoughts.
It could only be one person since Slate was the only one who knew where I lived.
I left the bottle on the ground and headed to the front door. It was a large door, nine feet high, and it had a window on either side of the frame. I opened the door without bothering to check who was on the other side. It had to be him, and I didn’t want to wait another second before I saw him.
Instead, it was Coen. I could feel my excitement melt away like a stick of butter in the microwave.
“Are you okay?” he asked, bundled up in his thick jacket.
“Yeah…I just thought you might be Slate.”
“No. He’s at home, drunk out of his mind.”
“At least he’s not out with someone else already…”
“He’s not in that frame of mind at all.” He looked over my shoulder and into the empty house. “So, can I come inside? I want to see the new place.”
“Of course. I’m sorry.” I stepped aside so he could get out of the freezing air.
“Wow, it’s nice.” He looked at the large staircase in the entryway and admired the chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling. Old wallpaper was on the walls, giving it a distinctly antique look. The place was at least fifty years old, but the appliances and bathrooms had been renovated.
“It’s beautiful.” I gave him a quick tour, showing him the living room, kitchen, and the bedrooms. “It’s perfect.”
“It is perfect. Big for one person, but I’m sure that will change in time.”
I grabbed an extra chair so he could sit with me in the living room. “Eventually…” I pushed my air mattress aside so he wouldn’t have to see my rumpled sheets and old tear stains. “Would you like some wine? I don’t have any glasses, so I’ve been drinking it out of the bottle.”
“I have low standards.” He took the bottle from me and took a drink, not caring about my lipstick mark. “So, how are you?”
I gave him a ghostly expression, like I didn’t care about anything at all anymore. I was an empty vase with no water or flowers. I was an empty chest that lacked a soul. I’d never wanted to be one of those people who lost the will to live when they experienced a breakup, but that was exactly how I felt. I felt stupid for thinking Slate would ever change. He said he would try to be something more—but not once did he try. I was the stupidest woman on the planet for believing him. “I’ve been better. You?”
He shrugged. “I’ve been better.”
“How’s the divorce going?”
“Judge ruled in my favor. She gets nothing.”
“Good. I would have been surprised if he’d ruled in any other way.”
“Now we just have to sign all the papers and actually get the divorce…but she stormed out. Haven’t heard from her since.”
“She’s probably trying to figure out a way to get what she wants.”
“Well, there is no way.” He took a drink. “Unless she kills me.” He chuckled like it was
absurd.
“Don’t even say things like that…” Simone didn’t seem like a murderer, but she’d already gone to intense extremes to get what she wanted. Who knew what she was capable of?
“I know she’s a bitch, but she’s not a murdering bitch.”
I hoped so. “How is he?”
“He’s a mess.”
“He is?” I asked, trying not to sound too happy.
He nodded. “I don’t get it. He’s completely miserable, but he won’t change his mind. He even got a little furious when he walked into your bedroom and you were hoping to see me instead of him. He looked like he wanted to rip my head off.”
“Well…he’s sensitive to that specific topic.”
“I get that,” he said. “But if you’re that jealous over a woman, why let her go? Why spend millions on her? Why can’t he pull his head out of his ass?”
“I told him I would only come back if he tried. He told me he would. But he never did…now I think he bought me these things because he feels guilty. He led me on and selfishly broke my heart.”
Coen didn’t have a rebuttal to that.