Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Dean expected those things from women. He expected exactly what I had turned into. But I wasn’t that girl, and since he hadn’t tried to talk to me again after the day I fled his penthouse, then I figured he must have come to that conclusion too. I wasn’t his type after all. Something we had both known but ignored. My actions had been so unlike me that I couldn’t even tell Clara about what we’d done. What I’d let him do.
Luckily, Clara had a date tonight, and I wouldn’t be pressed to go out with her. It was Friday night, and I was craving a night in with ice cream, Chinese food, and pointless television. The food order had been placed, so I sat down with a pint of chocolate fudge ice cream and began flipping through the stations on my television.
I missed Cam. He’d told me yesterday that he wouldn’t be able to call again until Sunday. They were prepping for a battle of the bands at camp. I also felt like he needed me to give him more independence. Having to call your mother daily had to be getting old.
I stuck another bite of ice cream in my mouth just as I reached the entertainment channel. I paused. I knew that back. I leaned against the overstuffed cushions of my sofa, which still hadn’t been replaced with something more affordable, and watched.
Dean’s hand rested on the lower back of a tall, willowy blonde, wearing a dress that dreams were made of. The red carpet under their feet and the screaming fans on either side, being held back as they walked up to the large backdrop of the movie premiere they were attending, made Dean appear untouchable. I wondered if Dean ever wore a tux. Even now, he was dressed in black jeans that hung low on his hips, a black leather vest with nothing under it, a thin silver chain around his neck, and black boots.
I studied the blonde on his arm. She was older than me, the kind of stunning beauty you’d expect to see on Dean’s arm, and I was jealous. I shouldn’t be, but I was. I would never look like that on his arm. Of course, I’d never be on his arm.
The bottom of the screen said her name was Helena Noble, and of course she was a model. I stuck another large bite of ice cream in my mouth. I wanted to change the channel, but I needed to watch this. It was obviously something I had let myself forget. This was Dean’s life. His world. Not the apartment building I lived in.
The announcer talked about Dean being seen with this woman twice that week in Beverly Hills. So, he was back in California. I hadn’t known he had left. Was Maegan here? I didn’t want to ever see her again. I was humiliated enough that I’d been caught like that. She was the only witness to my moment of weakness. I’d prefer to never run into her again.
The blonde said something to him, and he laughed, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple. There was a look in his eyes though. One that I’d never seen.
I put the ice cream down on the table and leaned forward to stare at him closely.
He was acting. That was fake. I’d seen Dean when he was laughing. Really laughing. This wasn’t it. The laugh didn’t truly meet his eyes. I didn’t look back at the woman. I kept my gaze locked on Dean until they were gone and the next couple appeared.
I pressed the power button on the remote and stared now at the black screen.
In two weeks, Cam would be home. We would have to start getting things ready for the new school year. My life would revolve around being a mom once again. It was what I knew. I was good at being a mom. I loved being Cam’s mom.
Dean would probably never speak to me again. Or maybe, after time, he’d forget that I had run out on him. If we did run into each other in the building, we could make small talk, then go on about our lives. The more at arm’s length I kept him, the better.
The whole idea, however, made me sad. I didn’t want to feel anything, but I did.
The doorbell rang, and I knew my food was here. I’d eat my feelings or eat while I was trying to make sense of my feelings. Grabbing my money, I opened the door, paid the delivery guy, and took my food. Locking back up, I headed for the kitchen to open my grocery-store bottle of wine to go with my kung pao chicken and side of dumplings.
I glanced at my phone and considered texting Cam, but I fought the urge. I had to stop hovering so much. He was getting older. It was just hard to accept.