Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Richie, I—”
“What the hell, Seth? I get a call from some PR woman with the Monarchs saying they got my application. An application that came from your email address. I was so unprepared I probably sounded exactly like the dumbass I am, and on top of that, I was dealing with Asher throwing up in the background.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad—”
“It was. It was exactly that bad. Now do you want to start explaining why the hell you went to Foster when I already told you I wasn’t interested?”
“Are you kidding me?” Not what I meant to say. I’m supposed to be apologizing, groveling, but … my mouth isn’t cooperating. “That job is a dream for you, and the only reason you didn’t apply was because of me. I can’t live with that shit hanging over my head.”
“I told you I wouldn’t lie to you, and I wasn’t. There’s no reason for it to hang over your head.”
“Maybe you think that now, but I couldn’t risk you turning around one day and regretting it.”
“That wasn’t your choice.”
“Well, I made it my choice. For fuck’s sake, are you looking for an apology? Because you’re not going to get it. I did this for you. Because I know it’s what’s best for you.”
“Was it best for me? Or best for you?” He doesn’t let me respond. “Did you stop for even one second and consider that maybe I know exactly what I want. I know how to prioritize. And I might be oblivious sometimes, but I made this choice with my eyes wide open. I fucking chose you. I chose you because I wanted to. You didn’t force me, you didn’t make me feel pressured. And now … I’m sort of wondering why I made that choice when you’re making it very fucking hard for me to trust you.”
I almost scoff. “I’ve never given you any reason not to trust me.”
“You might not have outright lied, but you didn’t trust I could make this choice for myself. You treated me like a dumbass, like everyone else does, and by not telling me, that’s as bad as lying. I thought you were the one person who would have my back, always. Instead you snuck my resume, you applied for a job that’s a really big fucking deal, and then it all completely blindsided me right before the worst and final game of my life.”
His eyes meet mine for the first time, and the pain in them nearly kills me. When he lays it all out like that … I feel gross. Sneaky and deceitful. I struggle to swallow and quickly have to look away when my vision goes all blurry. Shit. “I just …” What, Seth? What did you just do? My voice is small when I finally continue. “I wanted to make you happy.”
“Well, you failed, because I don’t think I’ve ever been more pissed off in my life.”
He might as well have slapped me. I scramble for my laptop that’s on the kitchen counter and open it to the page I was looking through before I left. Then I turn it to him.
He hesitates a second before stepping forward. “What’s all this?”
“Rentals. In Montreal.”
Richie jerks away and paces to the other side of the kitchen. “So now you’re finding me a place to live too? Fuck”—his voice breaks—“anyone would think you’re trying to get rid of me.”
“No. God, no. These are for us.”
He freezes. I have no idea how to read the way his back muscles have bunched up, but I hurry to keep talking.
“I knew you might never get this same opportunity again, and when you said you were putting me first—no one’s ever done that. And it made me realize, you don’t need to. The fact you’d even consider it means more than I’ll ever be able to tell you, but I thought if I applied, then organized my own shit, if it all worked out, then we could go together.”
It’s not until the words leave my mouth that it hits me how it sounds. We’ve confessed feelings and made it clear we want this relationship to continue, but now I’m talking about bigger things. Moving countries for him, finding a place together. That’s some super-grown-up shit right there, and if he’s here to break up with me, things are about to get real awkward real fast. The nerves in my gut are making me want to be sick.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
When he finally turns back around, his gaze lands on the laptop screen. I watch as he takes one, two deep breaths. Then takes a step forward.
“Why didn’t you talk to me first?”
“I didn’t even know if you’d hear back about the job. We both know it’s not going to be there for long. I thought … I don’t know what I was thinking.” A sob bubbles in my throat. “Please don’t hate me.”