Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“It’s Jess,” I say in a tight voice. “Which you already know. And FYI? I’m sure you’re trying to make me feel inferior or some shit by purposely screwing up my name every time you see me, but it’s not working. You can call me Janet or Jackie or Julia Fucking Child, but it won’t change the fact that I’m Blake’s girlfriend.”
God, I should probably shut my mouth already, but for some reason I can’t stop talking. The sight of this woman—this woman who had the greatest man in the world and then lied to him in order to “keep” him…it’s infuriating.
“He kept your secret for five years,” I say in a low voice. “He allowed his family to think the worst of him. He allowed you to be the martyr when in reality you broke his heart. He did this because your reputation was more important to him than his.”
Molly has the decency to wince.
“But you didn’t deserve it,” I say frankly. “And you don’t deserve to even be in the same room as him. You’re here to apologize, right? To try to win his forgiveness so he talks to Brenna on your behalf? So your best friend stops thinking you’re a monster?”
Her cheeks redden.
“Do you realize how unfair that is?” My voice softens. “I won’t let you drag him back into your bullshit, Molly. I’ll tell him you stopped by. I’ll pass along whatever message you want me to give him, but if he asks for my opinion, I’m going to tell him that you’re not worth his time.”
“Jess,” she pleads, and there’s desperation in her eyes. She must be desperate if she’s actually using my name. “You need to do this for me. If you don’t, I’ll tell the WAGs you’re a gold digger, and they’ll shun you.”
“Knock yourself out,” I growl. “I don’t give a crap about joining some club, even if they do make really yummy daiquiris. You hurt Blake. You hurt him, and I’m not letting you hurt him again, you hear me? So turn around, put your weepy, lying ass in the elevator, and pick up the phone to leave him a message. Because there’s no way I’m letting you step foot in this apartment!”
Her mouth opens in a protest, but I’m already shutting the door. Then I lock it for good measure.
Maybe I was out of line. Maybe I overstepped, crossed a line that’s going to make Blake furious with me, but—
“Thank you.”
The gruff voice has me spinning around in shock. Blake is right behind me, clad in nothing but a towel that rides low on his hips. For once, he doesn’t offer a cocky remark about his nearly naked state. He doesn’t give me his goofy Blake grin or make some inappropriate comment.
He simply stands there, staring at me with something akin to wonder.
“How much of that did you hear?” I ask ruefully.
“Most of it.” His throat bobs as he swallows. “Nobody’s ever…” He clears his throat. “Ah, nobody’s ever defended me like that. I mean… Cheezus, Jessie, I think you actually would’ve beat her up if she tried coming in here.”
“Very likely,” I admit.
Now he grins. My Blake is back.
***
Blake
Closure. It’s a funny thing.
Five years ago, I was going to marry a girl named Molly. I loved her. I thought she loved me. And…it didn’t work out. Then I spent five years trying to pretend it hadn’t ruined my entire view on relationships. I played along with a lie because I didn’t want my family to get hurt by Molly the way I’d been hurt. But despite that, I’d thought I’d moved on.
I have moved on, but I didn’t realize until this very moment that there’s been a thundercloud following me around since then. I’ve smiled and I’ve laughed and I’ve fucked, but that cloud was always there.
Not anymore. Because Jess Canning just shot her rays of sunshine into that cloud, and now my sky is so blue that I can’t even remember the gray. She defended me. She made it crystal clear that she’s never, ever going to let anyone hurt me.
Nobody’s ever done that for me before.
I exhale in a big fat rush, and then I just fucking ask what I’ve been wanting to ask her for weeks. “You wanna move in with me?”
She blinks. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Do you want to move in with me? In here. Together.”
The surprise doesn’t leave her expression. But it’s joined with suspicion. “Are you only asking because you feel sorry for me?”
“Fuck no,” I say immediately. I march over and plant myself next to her. “I’m asking because I want you to move in.” When she looks ready to object, I hold up my hand. “I wouldn’t dream of offering you a free ride,” I add in a wry tone. “You can pay rent or utilities or whatever you feel comfortable paying, okay? This isn’t a handout or a pity offer or some trick on my part. I just want you to come live with me.”