Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DUFFY
Charlie was being weird during our weekly drink. Which wasn’t out of the ordinary. Charlie was always a bit of an oddball. It made us kindred spirits. But he never seemed so . . . pokey before.
“So you and the photographer. Tell me all about it.” He brought his pint of Guinness to his lips. I pouted at my extra-dry martini accusingly. I didn’t even like martinis. I wanted a bloody cider with a side of chips. I was just so used to being a cardboard copy of every attractive cultural cliché men were attracted to that I sometimes forgot to break character and be my true, authentic self.
“Nothing to tell,” I said firmly, shoving away all thoughts about last night’s almost-kiss and my almost-meltdown that followed it. Since there was plenty to tell, I decided to go with a condensed version of the truth. I trusted Charlie. “We’re marrying so I can stay here.”
There. Out in the open. That wasn’t so bad, was it? Then why was pesky guilt nibbling at my gut, telling me I was a liar?
Charlie gave me the flat, unnerving stare of a headmaster who’s just been fed an emotional story about a dog who’s eaten one’s homework. “Yeah, I figured out that part pretty early on. But you guys are more than just friends, right?”
Were we even friends? It was hard to categorize my relationship with Riggs. Sometimes it felt like we were an actual couple. Other times, I swore the world wasn’t big enough for the two of us to coexist.
“I have a boyfriend,” I reminded him curtly.
“Ish,” he corrected, raising his Guinness in the air in a mock-salute. “And let’s admit it, he isn’t around to fight for your affections, is he?”
“No.” I swirled the untouched martini in my hand. “I don’t think he’s ever . . .” Given a crap? Properly courted me? Not taken me for granted? “. . . done any of that.”
The more time passed, the less I remembered BJ as a well-rounded, three-dimensional person. I couldn’t explain it, really, but he was becoming more of a symbol. A prop in my seriously, and I mean seriously, messed-up book. It wasn’t a romance; I knew that for sure. Was it a thriller? A horror? One thing was certain—it wasn’t self-help.
“Now, I don’t know much about relationships, angel, but I do know this—love isn’t a privilege. It’s a necessity. You’re acting like you and Brendan can mend whatever’s been broken, but if I’m being honest . . .” Charlie hitched a shoulder up, licking the Guinness’s foam off his upper lip. “I think you’re hedging your bet on the wrong horse.”
“There are no more horses in the race,” I reminded him. “The horse is more of a . . . lone wolf?”
“There’s another horse,” Charlie countered.
Do you reckon?
“Riggs doesn’t even like me.” I studied Charlie acutely, desperately wanting him to dispute my theory.
“Oh, he likes you. He just doesn’t like coming to terms with liking you.”
“That is . . . very confusing.”
“All matters of the heart are.” He swept a finger along the edges of his pint, hunting for foam.
“Charlie, don’t be ridiculous. We don’t fit.”
“That’s okay.” He finished the remainder of his stout, then plucked his jacket from the back of his stool and slid into it. “You’re not a pair of shoes, so that’s not a requirement.”
“Wait, where are you going?” I was still sitting in front of my lackluster martini, avoiding my Riggs-infested flat like it was a mosquito colony I had to brave through.
“Doctor’s appointment.” Charlie tucked his wallet into his back pocket. “Wanna come hold my hand?”
“Do you need me to?” Even if I did want to go home, which I decidedly didn’t, I wouldn’t mind tagging along. Although Charlie was perfectly handsome, worldly, charming, and sought after, he always seemed like a tragic hero to me. Someone I wanted to shield and protect.
“Nah. I’m good.”
I sighed. “Next week, same day, same time?”
“If life grants me another week—I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He winked.
Rolling my eyes, I shooed him away. So dramatic, this one.
“You’re lying.” I pressed my fingers to my eyes, fighting off tears.
“Why would I lie about something like that?” Kieran’s voice drifted into my ear while we were on the phone. “It’s not like I have an incentive for it.”
“I just don’t see why he’d do that.”
“Because he’s a wanker, Duff. Always has been.”
I shook my head, even though my brother couldn’t see me. This was yet another blow in my already shitty-licious week of job hunting and trying to ignore my roommate slash fiancé slash teeny-tiny-totally-minuscule crush. The same one I was going to marry in less than three days. After which a flurry of paperwork and bureaucracy would ensue, and I’d apply for my marriage visa.
Kieran sounded like he was eating something crispy. “I can forward you the email if you want.”