Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I got off the phone with Landon and called Willow. She didn’t answer. I called Cedars Sinai. Willow James had just been discharged. They couldn’t tell me anything else. I didn’t know what I wanted them to tell me. That she was okay? It wouldn’t be enough. I needed someone to tell me this was all a big misunderstanding. Someone had gotten something fucked up. I didn’t know what.
I didn’t care what, as long as it meant I hadn’t fallen in love with my enemy’s daughter.
27
WILLOW
My mom wanted to stay with me after she drove me home. She wanted to talk about the baby—whose, and how, and what was I going to do? But I couldn’t bring myself to face it yet. First, I had to face Julian. I had to tell him what had happened last night, and then I’d have to tell him everything that had happened over the past few months. I had no choice anymore.
I just had no idea how to do it.
I was curled up on the couch under a blanket, holding my phone, trying to screw up the courage to return Julian’s call when a knock came at my door. I started upright, sure it was him. It had to be. It had the heavy, authoritative fall of a man’s fist. My heart climbing into my throat, I wrapped the blanket around myself and walked slowly toward the door. I wanted so badly to throw it open and fall into his arms and push this horrible conversation off for another day, but I was on a deadline now. This baby was coming in seven and a half months whether I was ready or not. Whether Julian hated me or not.
I took a deep breath and opened the door, bracing myself for what was coming. Except I’d braced myself for the wrong thing entirely. It wasn’t Julian standing on the other side, fist raised, about to knock again. It was Fletcher.
Fletcher, wearing a peculiar smile that didn’t waiver even as he took in the bandage on my head and my pale, disheveled appearance. “Got time for a check in?” he asked, same as he did when he called on the phone.
“I—um, come in.” I stepped back, more to get out of his way than to welcome him. Fletcher had hardly waited for the invitation before he barreled forward.
He seemed too big for my small apartment. He was a man who needed soaring ceilings and oversized furniture to look proportional. He glanced around without seeming to see any of it though, not even paying enough attention to curl his lip at the cheap furniture and bare bones decor.
“I came to tell you the job is over,” he announced, staking a claim on the floor space between the couch and the television. I stayed at the mouth of the living room, my head spinning with confusion.
“The job with Miller?” I asked, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s over. You fucked up, kid. Callum didn’t go for the documentary. He’s going to sell to Lewis Productions.”
I stared uncomprehendingly at Fletcher, trying to read him. He was baring his teeth in a smile, and his tone was pleasant enough, but there was a tightness around his eyes that told me he was mad. More than mad. Furious. But that didn’t make sense because my father had never bothered to hide his rage before. Why was he doing it now? Did he know that I’d deliberately fed him bad intel? Did he know about Julian and me?
“I—I’m sorry,” I offered finally. “But I don’t want to quit. That won’t look good. On my resume, I mean.”
Fletcher laughed. “On your resume,” he repeated, the laugh dying quickly. “Or do you mean it won’t look good to Julian Lewis.” His features rearranged themselves into something that might have been pity.
My mouth went dry. He knew. He had to. I tried to speak, but nothing came out.
Fletcher nodded slowly. “I know all about it, kid. I keep close tabs on Julian.”
Not on his own daughter—on his nemesis. That said everything one needed to know about Fletcher. I straightened my spine and found my voice again. “Yes, it wouldn’t look good on my resume, and I don’t want to let Julian down. I…care about him.”
“And you think he feels the same way?” There was that poor imitation of pity again.
“I do,” I said, refusing to fall for whatever shit he was pulling.
Fletcher’s mouth drooped, his arms spread out like he was halfheartedly offering a hug. “I blame myself. I never should have put you in this position.”
I stayed silent. I wasn’t going to embarrass myself by telling my father that Julian and I had spent every night together for months. That he wanted to meet my family. That he wanted me to meet his friends. That this wasn’t the same situation as him and my mom.