Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 133127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“Why do you think you can’t have a girlfriend?”
“I don’t think I’m wired to be with just one person.”
“I never used to, either. Not until I met Bridget, and then…” His voice trails off.
“Then what?”
“Sex wasn’t the same for me anymore.”
I clench my jaw as I watch him, the story sounding strangely familiar. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I would have sex with random women and just feel off.” He shrugs again. “I can’t explain it, but I didn’t get the same buzz out of casual sex that I always had done before. It’s like it just wasn’t enough for me after Bridget. Unless it was with her, I just didn’t want it.”
I smirk. “Well, that’s because you’re a big sooky prick with a soft cock.”
“Maybe.” He chuckles and stands, making to leave before he turns back at me. “All I’m saying is that some things are worth fighting for.”
My eyes hold his.
“Even if the person you are fighting with is yourself.” Ben walks out, and I exhale heavily and run my hands through my hair.
I stare at the wall in front of me.
I hate this. I hate feeling like this. All fucking week, I’ve been thinking about her and trying to work out why I don’t want to see anyone else.
What is it about this one particular girl that is so different from the rest of them?
If I were wired to be the boyfriend type of guy, I would know that already and I would fight for her.
I stand and stare out the window, looking down at the parking lot below.
Could I do it? Could I be a boyfriend kind of man?
A deep sense of dread fills me at the thought of letting her down. I remember the way I felt for those six weeks we were apart after the first time we met, and I can’t stand the thought of ever feeling like that again. Most, if not all people are wired to be with one person, but maybe I’m just not.
It’s best for everyone concerned if I let her go.
Tully
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I don’t even recognise the person staring back at me now. The girl I used to be was structured and focused on pleasing everyone else but herself—to sticking to a game plan. The girl I see now wants to follow her heart, and if her heart wants to drag her to Hell with a man named Brock Marx, then so be it.
I’ve been soul searching all week, imagining a future with a man I don’t know versus a future with a man I know so well.
There’s no comparison between the two. One life is the one I choose, while the other is the one I feel obligated to live.
I just can’t live the lie anymore… and it hurts like hell to admit it even to myself.
I have to tell Brock. It’s like a poison that is festering inside me now and I won’t be able to relax until it’s off my chest. I have no idea how he will react, but I do know that I will feel better once he knows everything I’m feeling.
Then it’s up to him what happens with us, but I at least have to try.
I text Brock one last time, and I swear to God, my stalking is at an all-time high. This is my tenth call this week. I make him look sane.
TULLY: Please come over.
I’m going out of my mind not seeing you.
I pace back and forth, this sick feeling invading my stomach.
I know what man I want, there isn’t a doubt in my mind, and it isn’t Simon.
I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. How can you, in all sensibility, throw away nearly ten years with someone after spending just two nights with another man?
Seventy-two hours.
Brock and I may not even be suited. He may not even want me?
I’ve hardly slept all week. I’ve called Simon twice hoping to feel that spark, praying that the stars will align and I will have this lightning bolt of electricity and clarity that will tell me exactly what to do.
But it’s just not there, and I hate to say it but I feel like I’m speaking to my big brother. I just want to tell him about this amazing guy I met in the gym.
I keep walking back and forth for over an hour, and at 9:30 p.m. I decide do what any self-respecting woman should do in this situation.
I’m going to drive past Brock’s house to see if he’s home, and I swear to God, if he’s on a fucking date, I’m losing my shit.
I drive past the gym and scope out the parking lot. No car. I continue driving until I get to his house where I see his car in the driveway.