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)
Oh, no. My heart sinks when the truth hits me in the middle of another boring anecdote. It’s like Lucas all over again. I’m talking myself into it.
But this isn’t the same as convincing myself to stay with a boyfriend who doesn’t make me happy. How many people are actually happy with their work? That’s why it’s called work and not play.
It’s childish of me to think I’m special.
When he slides the contract my way, I pick up the pen and sign my name before doubt can stop me. This is for the best. Feeling bored but secure is better than being unemployed and too stressed to enjoy my life. That’s what I need to keep in mind, and it’s what helps me smile genuinely when I stand and shake his hand. It’s a lot easier to be happy when you’ve got money in the bank, and you know you won’t lose your job if you get sick.
This is real life, not some fantasy world where everybody gets what they want.
Though I did get Callum, didn’t I? Even though it won’t last, at least one secret dream came true. I guess good things don’t have to last forever to matter. Is this a life lesson or something?
For the second time today, my phone rings at exactly the wrong time. In this case, I’m heading back to my car, goosebumps beginning to cover my arms and legs when I think about getting back to the house, back to Callum. I know he’ll be busy, but what happens tonight, when it’s just the two of us alone in that big house?
Looking at my phone, I realize it isn’t Dad calling to make sure I remembered how to spell my name when the time came. The guilt rises when I discover Tatum’s name on the screen. I should be happy to hear from her. It’s the first time she’s called since she left for France, even so, I’m afraid the slightest tremble in my voice will give me away. Who could have imagined how much would change over the course of a handful of days?
I can’t think about that now.
“Bonjour!” I chirp, forcing myself to forget my guilt for her sake. “How many pastries have you eaten so far?”
“Too many,” she confesses. “I’m going to need a juice cleanse when I get back.”
I can hardly believe how glad I am to hear her voice, even if she sounds distracted. “That sounds like a wonderful trip to me.”
Once I slide into the car, I set the phone down and turn on the speaker before starting the engine. “How is everything? You haven’t sent me any pictures. You haven’t even updated your Insta.” I thought for sure she’d be posting nonstop, but the last images date back to her sitting in the jet.
“Are you stalking me?” A laugh meets my ears, but I don’t buy it. It could be paranoia, assuming everybody has a secret to hide since my secret is big enough to consume my every thought. But I’ve known Tatum long enough to hear the difference in her voice. There’s a distinction between when she’s happy and when she’s pretending to be happy.
All I can remember is how upset she was when she got to the club after the fight with Kristoff. Maybe I’m being overly concerned.
“How am I supposed to survive if I can’t live vicariously through you from pictures on social media?”
“I’ve been too busy to even think about it.”
Lie. It’s a lie. I know it, and she knows it. I don’t want to get into a fight, so I won’t challenge her.
“Well, stop being so busy. I’ve been dying to get a tour of your rental. Anyway, is everything else okay? I want something pretty to look at when I start the cubicle phase of my life.”
“Shit, you were supposed to go in today, weren’t you? I forgot all about it.”
“You’re on vacation—that could have something to do with it, and I’ll save you the boring stuff. Everything went well.” Even if I already regret signing on the dotted line. She doesn’t need to know that, along with a lot of other things.
“Outside of your boring job starting soon, how are you? I hope my dad isn’t bothering you too much.”
A fist squeezes my heart until I’m sure it will burst. I don’t know how much more guilt I can handle. “Everything’s good.”
I woke up in his bed this morning. Last night, I fell asleep in his arms. I swallowed his cum. But yeah, everything is peachy.
Christ, how am I supposed to live with this?
There’s noise in the background. Kristoff’s voice. It gets muffled—she must put her hand over the phone—but I can hear the tension. He’s being pissy as usual. Even on another continent, he’s acting like a whiny baby.