Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Tatum’s eyes light up with excitement.
“I don’t like that look,” I confess.
She grins. “Of course you don’t, but I don’t care because I have the best idea I’ve ever had.”
“Carry on.” I gesture with my hands.
“Okay, so hear me out.” Insert dramatic pause. “You should come with me to France. It would be better than staying here and dealing with the douchebag. We could go shopping, to the beach, and eat every pastry available until they have to roll us out of the place.” She clasps her hands over her chest, eyes shining.
My lips turn up into a smile because how could I not smile? For one breathless moment, I can see it happening.
Then reality pops the bubble of illusion. I wish I could give in, even if it means spending a month with Kristoff—because, of course, she isn’t going alone. Fleeing the country for an entire month, putting Lucas and everything else behind me, sounds like a grand idea. Something new. Something to spark a little passion in my life.
A battle of wits takes place in my mind. Reality isn’t so simple. All the working-class ethics drilled into my head while growing up rear up and slap the idea down in an instant. Ugh, being an adult sucks.
“I can’t. I start my new job soon, and I don’t think calling in for the whole first month is a good way to start. Plus, I need the money. Going forward, I’ll be paying for everything on my own.” The words threaten to clog my throat, but I force them out.
I’m reminded again that I’ve wasted five years of my life on some asshole who turned around and stuck his dick inside someone else.
She scowls. “You know, I could help with that—”
“No.” The strength of my response surprises me. Her eyes widen with shock. I let out a deep breath before continuing. “It wouldn’t be right. This is my life. It’s my responsibility. I’m an adult, and I need to pay for things myself. I do, however, love you and appreciate you wanting to support me.”
“What are you going to do, then? Where are you going to live?” She’s worried about me, probably more than I am myself. Her chin wobbles and the fear of leaving me here to fend for myself reflects in her eyes. “I can’t leave the country without knowing you’re going to be comfortable and safe. What if he tries to do something stupid?”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her. “There’s always the option of going home. I’m sure my dad would love to have me move back in.” I want to make her feel better, but there’s no disguising the disappointment and dread that fills my voice at the thought.
Sure, I could grit my teeth and get through it for a while. It wouldn’t take long to save enough money to find a decent apartment, and I know my father would welcome me back with open arms. He’s been begging me to move back in since the day I moved out. The problem is, I barely made it out once.
I don’t know if he’d let me leave again. Not that he would lock me up, but he’d find ways of convincing me to stay. Reminding me in every way that I’m safer with him. There’s not a doubt in my mind that he’d recount every example of girls getting assaulted in their apartments by psycho stalkers. It was one thing for me to live with a man my father trusted, but alone? Yeah, no. He’d never let that happen.
“You know how it would be, right? No offense, but your dad is way overprotective. How can you take a step backward like that after you’ve lived on your own all this time?”
“You aren’t helping,” I admit with a grin.
She finally kicks off her shoes, then snaps her fingers. “Oooooh. I think I’ve got it.” Walking into the bedroom, she unzips her dress.
“What now?” I ask, following behind her.
My gaze sweeps the room. Romero wasn’t kidding. Lucas didn’t bother closing the drawers or picking up the empty hangers he left behind. I guess I should be thankful he didn’t destroy or break anything.
When Tatum doesn’t respond, I click my tongue. “Hey, what’s this grand idea of yours?”
She laughs, clearly distracted by her own thoughts. “Oh, yes. So what if you stay at my house, in my wing, while I’m gone?”
Whoa.
I pause while I search my dresser for clean pajamas for us both. “I don’t know about that…”
“Why? It’s perfect.” She plops down on the bed after brushing hangers out of the way.
Our bed. I cringe. I need to stop thinking about him, about us. It hurts too much. How long was he cheating on me? Did he ever bring anyone back to our place? Jesus. I’m going to vomit if I continue thinking like this.