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)
Four days have made it easier to face myself in the mirror, too. I don’t flinch away from my reflection while washing my hands. The bruise on my cheekbone will turn an ugly shade of yellow and green before long, but I can cover that with makeup. The scrapes, too.
“You’re still perfect,” Callum told me as I drifted off to sleep beside him the first night. I don’t know if he thought I could hear him or not, but I’ve heard those three whispered words in my head countless times since then. He still thinks I’m perfect.
Could this mean he has actual feelings for me?
There’s no time to mull that over since my phone rings on the nightstand. Stephanie has been checking in on me from the office, and I don’t want to miss the call if it’s her, especially when she’s covered for me since the accident.
It’s not Stephanie, but somebody I’ve been dying to talk to. “Buongiorno,” I chirp on answering. “Wait. Are you still in Italy? I’ve lost track of your jet setting.”
“Are you serious?” Tatum blurts out with an edge in her voice. “You’re cracking jokes?”
Oh, no. I sink to the bed while my heart continues plummeting until it’s down around my ankles. She must’ve found out about us—why else would she sound so pissed? “I’m sorry,” I whisper over the tears clogging my throat.
“You got hit by a fucking car, and I had to wait four days to find out? Did you forget all about me?”
She sounds genuinely hurt, so it’s probably not cool that I’m so relieved. She’s only upset that she didn’t know about the accident.
“When were you going to call me?” I can almost see her standing in front of me, arms folded, tapping a foot against the floor, and looking murderous.
“I’ve been so out of it. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret or anything.” I stifle a groan while settling back against the pillows.
“Are you okay? I mean, considering?”
“Considering, I’m fine. I got off pretty easy when you think about how much worse it could’ve been.”
“Please, don’t remind me. I just about died when Dad told me.”
Even while I’m half doped up after my last pill that put me to sleep, there’s no escaping the guilt that lances through me. “He’s taking great care of me,” I murmur, wincing. Here I am, in his bed, and I have to pretend our relationship is totally innocent.
“Well, this settles it.”
“Settles what?”
“I’m coming home right away. Obviously, somebody needs to keep an eye on you, and Dad is too busy working all the time.”
If somebody told me a few months ago that I would ever dread the idea of my best friend coming home after weeks apart, I’d tell them they were crazy. This is Tatum. I miss her. Having her gone all this time has been like missing a part of myself. Of course, I want her to come home.
But.
“Um…”
Her familiar laughter only adds to the discomfort. “What? You don’t want to see me? Did you find another best friend? Because I’ll cut that bitch.”
“Put the knife away,” I murmur, chewing my lip until it hurts. What’s better, telling her now or waiting until she gets home? It’s not like I’ll be able to hide it from her. I could never hide anything from her; she’s too observant and knows me too well.
“You know, if this goes on much longer, I’m going to feel insulted,” she warns in a deceptively light tone of voice that I know conceals irritation. I know her too well, too.
“I have something to tell you.” Oh, god, I’m actually doing this. But it has to be done. She has to know. I don’t want to drop the bomb on her after she’s arrived, and that’s probably because I’m a coward. I don’t think I could stand the look on her face when she finds out about us.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better friend.
She sighs loudly while I struggle to find the right words. “Does it have anything to do with you sleeping with my dad?”
I barely tighten my grip on the phone in time to keep from dropping it. I’m imagining this, right? This is some kind of side effect from the painkillers.
“Sorry, did I kill you? Are you still with me?”
I don’t know what to say. She doesn’t sound outraged. More like she thinks this is funny. I hope that’s a good sign. “You already knew?”
“Yeah,” she continues with an exasperated sigh. “Listen, it’s not my favorite thing in the world, but it is what it is. And yes, Dad knows I know.”
There I go again, almost dropping the damn phone. “How long has he known?”
“Only a few days.” I guess it slipped his mind. Not like I haven’t given him other things to worry about since the accident, but still. He could have at least thought to mention it. One less thing for me to feel terrible about.