Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
My face softened. Connor Clash was the best husband in the world, hands down.
I pushed my plate aside and watched him closely. The words were more feeling than statement. “Connor, you can’t protect me from everything.” He went to speak but I held up my hand to let him know that I wasn’t scolding him. “But I appreciate the sentiment.” Taking a deep breath, I responded through an exhale. “I’m slowly coming to realize that I’m stronger than I thought and with you by my side, there’s nothing I can’t overcome. And, yes, people are going to judge us but, sweetheart, they don’t know us. They don’t know what we’ve been through. Whatever they think they can throw at us is nothing compared to what we’ve done to ourselves.”
Connor lowered his face in shame. I stood, walking around the island, placing gentle fingers under his chin, and lifting his face to look at me. A small smile touched my lips.
“What could they possibly do to us that we haven’t yet struggled through? We’ve been through it all, fought through it all and I would do it all over again to be here, right next to you. I have experienced more of life in the past year than I have in all my existence. And although not every experience was a good one, I’m grateful for them all.” I shook my head lightly. “They can’t break us. Not unless we let them.”
The silence that passed between us wasn’t awkward or tense. In fact, it was mildly comforting. It washed over the both of us like a balm, smoothing away Connor’s rough edges for a solid moment.
“I am so in love with you,” Connor’s hands came up to cup my cheeks. His voice was thick, his gaze intense. “How’d you get so smart?”
I shrugged offhandedly then rolled my eyes. “I’ve been through some shit.”
Connor’s chuckle warmed me from the inside out and when he dipped his head and kissed my smiling lips, I found I no longer cared what Becky Amour had to say about me. She could take her opinion and shove it.
We weren’t in high school anymore. I wasn’t afraid anymore.
I was successful. I had friends. I was living my best life.
I was The Violet Dame. It was time I started to act like it.
A wolf didn’t concern herself with the opinions of sheep.
“Okay,” I pulled back slightly and said, “What is it this time? I’m ready.”
The next few minutes saw me sitting on the sofa with Connor’s laptop in front of me. He sat next to me, leant forward and typed in the hashtag #IAmMe. I watched the social media platform fill with posts. But Connor searched through them, finding the one he was after then clicking on it.
My brows furrowed in confusion as Noah showed up on screen. With music playing in the background, he sat back and said nothing. Just waved at the screen before snapping his fingers. A photo appeared on screen of Noah posing for a magazine cover. He looked gorgeous wearing black denim and a ripped tee, screaming into a microphone. Underneath the image appeared the word ‘Me’. Ten seconds passed and Noah emerged again. When he clicked his fingers a second time, another image filled the screen. This one, I didn’t recognize but knew immediately who it was.
Noah stood there, a gangly, pimple-faced teen with braces. He wore baggy stone-washed denim and a green hyper-color tee. His hair was combed over at the side. Under the photo came two more words. ‘Also me.’
When the image faded and went back to Noah sitting behind his computer screen, he winced at how bad the photo was and held up a piece of cardboard. On it, in bold black lettering, was the hashtag #IAmMe.
The screen minimized, and Connor clicked on another post. This time, Cherry took up the screen, fully made up in her Vixens get-up. Leather. Teased hair. Made up to the nines.
She held up a piece of paper. It said ‘Me’.
When she snapped her fingers, a choked sound left me. On screen was Cherry, no make-up, hair braided, wearing the pretty sundress that her mom had bought her, with pink glossy lips. She smiled sweetly, blew a kiss to the screen and then held up another piece of paper. ‘Also me’, it said. When she held up another piece of paper, her sweetness dissipated and she flipped the monitor the bird.
#IAmMe
Lee. Beth. Hell. Ettie. Pearl. One after the other, they put themselves out there, revealing photographs of themselves in their most awkward teen stages.
But then came Connor.
I recognized the room as his in-home studio. Left Turn played in the background as Connor lit up on screen. He looked into the monitor and snapped his fingers.
A photograph of Connor taken from a magazine shoot came up on the monitor. He wore fitted black jeans and his signature hi-top Vans but had on no shirt, revealing his beautifully sculpted body and, much to my dismay, the fly of his pants was open and gaping, revealing a small tuft of neatly trimmed hair that trailed down into his crotch.