Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
“Gee, thanks. And they say romance is dead,” I joke even though a part of me shatters against the broken edges of my stupid heart.
That idiot can’t seem to take a hint and keeps attempting to heal itself from scraps.
I should know by now that Eli is capable of care, but not of love. He’s able to provide me with whatever I need—companionship and protection included—, as long as I don’t ask for his nonexistent heart.
And for some reason, that hurts worse than I would have thought.
Because as much as I try to hold on to the illusion, I can see it breaking before my eyes.
And the man I love will probably shove me aside and get on with his life down the line as I rot away with the passage of time.
Two days later, we go home. Mainly because Eli’s called in for a work-related emergency and I want to mourn the death of the hope that my husband will ever love me.
He likes me just fine, but he can’t love me.
I’m busy playing the cello for the fourth consecutive hour in preparation for a possible competition. I just need to take one final chance so that whether I succeed or blow it, I’ll have no regrets.
My phone vibrates on the glass coffee table. I pause, the mellow sound fading away as I look at the mural clock. Quarter past eight.
Leo said they’d probably be late today and that I should have dinner, but I have no appetite. No matter how many of my favorite dishes Sam cooked. Something she let me know she despised as she shook her head and left me in peace.
I grab my phone and frown at the unknown number flashing on the screen.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Ava, it’s me.”
“Vance? Where’s your old number?”
“I suspect it was blocked from your side.”
“I didn’t block you.”
“Then your husband did.”
“Oh.”
“Like he got me kicked off UK soil, for criminal charges. I’m in the airport before the travel ban takes place.”
“C-criminal charges? What the hell is going on?”
“I told you he’s insane, Ava. Listen, I couldn’t in good conscience leave without telling you what he did.”
I stand up, holding my phone in a death grip. “I don’t want to hear about my previous therapist or whatever he did to them—”
“It’s about what he did to you!”
“M-me?” My heart lunges and sweat breaks out on my spine.
“Remember your friend Oliver from uni?”
“Yeah. He’s somewhere in South America.”
“No. He went MIA, but if what I gathered from Gemma and the others is correct, I’m pretty sure Eli was involved.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Because you married Eli quickly and without explanation right after Oliver disappeared. There has to be something there. I believe he’s threatening or blackmailing you.”
My grip loosens on the phone and it falls on the table as everything rushes back in.
35
AVA
TWO AND A HALF YEARS AGO
My eyes slowly peel open at the loud, constant sound of a beep…beep…beep…
My head lies on the cool surface of the steering wheel as the wind howls outside the car.
I slowly straighten, my foot shaking on the brake pedal and my heart thumping loudly in my ears.
The lorry I nearly collided into drives in the distance, its bright red beams casting a halo on the otherwise quiet, dimly lit street.
I somehow clipped or hit a pole, and now I’m stopped in the middle of the road. The lorry driver must’ve swerved past me. There’s some damage to the car, but it’s nothing serious, and when I test it, it’s drivable.
However, I’ve obviously lost some time, because I have no recollection of what exactly happened and can only speculate.
Wait.
I fumble with my arms, touch my middle, and wiggle my toes. Everything is working. My breaths echo in the car, shallow and stuttered.
Is it possible that I died and became a ghost like in those paranormal films? Am I stuck here for unfinished business?
A knock comes on the window, slashing the silence with violent interruption. I jump, my heart nearly spilling at my feet.
When I look up, a sigh of relief pushes past my starving lungs as I open the door. “Ollie, you scared me!”
“Is everything all right?” he asks, his gaze flitting at the now-empty street, except for my car and his that’s parked by the side of the road.
“Yup. Nearly got killed by a lorry, but all is good.”
I stand up and my feet fail me. Ollie grabs me by the waist and steadies me against the side of my car, his hand stroking my mid-section in an uncomfortable rhythm.
He smells of cigarettes, alcohol, and overpowering oud cologne. A combination that brings nausea to the back of my throat.
“You all right there, love?”
“Um…yeah.” I subtly try to push him away, but his tenuous grip hardens on my midsection until pain explodes where his fingers apply pressure.