Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
My gaze dropped to her hands, clutching a plate with one chocolate cupcake and a single burning candle.
“Since the birthday cake at the party wasn’t real,” she said, twisting the ball of her foot nervously on the floor.
I ran a hand through my hair and made my way toward her across the room. “Did you—”
“No, no way.” She shook her head firmly. “I asked room service for it. I hope that doesn’t spoil the spirit in which it was intended.”
“Of course not.” I put my hand out to regain my balance with the back of one of the bar chairs at the island.
“I figured the party last night was kind of—”
“Hectic?” I suggested.
“Fake.” The word was shockingly blunt, coming from someone holding a birthday cake.
“Okay, that might spoil the spirit in which this was intended,” I said slowly, gripping the next chair to limp the rest of the way to her.
She slid the cake onto the island and sighed. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to lie to you. Those people weren’t your friends. They were groupies, and you know it.”
“I do.” No sense in arguing about something that was so obvious. But what had changed between last night and now? “I thought you enjoyed yourself.”
“I did!” she hurried to reassure me. “And it was fun, and it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that I’m happy to have had. And to have had with you. It was a fantasy come true, like you said.”
“But,” I provided for her, dreading what might come next.
“I’m not fake,” she said quietly. “I mean, I don’t want to keep being fake.”
My heart leapt at the words. This was the woman I’d been warned about falling for. The woman who left a trail of broken hearts in her wake, if Scott could be believed.
Was she asking me for more? For what I’d come to want, desperately?
“Go on,” I said, my voice a dry rasp.
“I think…” She closed her eyes, like looking at me would make whatever she wanted to say impossible. “Tonight is my last night here.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
(Charlotte)
Matt looked like I’d shot him. Not simply said I was going to go home.
What do you mean?”
“I mean…” My eyes flicked to the candle dripping wax onto the frosting. “You should blow that out and make a wish, before it ruins the whole cake.”
My dodge annoyed him; I could tell by the wrinkle of his brow as he took the plate from me and unceremoniously blew out the candle. “I wish you would tell me what you mean and stop dancing around it. That’s my wish.”
“I told you what I mean. I think I should leave, before things get weird between us.” I picked at my fingernails absently, but didn’t—maybe couldn’t—say anything else.
He blew out a long breath. When he spoke again, there was no anger or disappointment in his voice. I appreciated that; it would have been unfair of him to pout over my leaving. “You can go any time you want to. I can have it all arranged; you could go within an hour.”
“That’s not—”
“Did something happen?” he asked. “At the party last night, did I do something?”
“No! The party was so much fun. Until we came back here and…” Until we came back here and I realized I might not be able to keep this up without ruining everything. But I couldn’t say that. I’d stayed awake for hours after we’d come back, holding him, running my fingers through his hair, soaking up every minute I could because I knew they would be our last. And in that time, I’d tried to find a way to break things off without admitting I was running away.
But I had to go. And there was no way to make him understand why. They never understood why.
“It was fun until I realized that you surrounded yourself with people you’re not close to, on a day that you claim to feel is important. The highlight of your year. But you didn’t know any of those people.” I spread my hands helplessly. It was the truth. Not a kind truth, probably one he was already aware of, but good enough to be my reason to leave.
Because I couldn’t tell him that I had to leave because I loved him too much to eventually let him down.
“I don’t want to fuck my actual friends,” he protested. “That would be weird.”
I mentally thanked him for that clumsy opening. “Exactly. I’m not your ‘actual friend’—”
“That’s not what I meant!”
I knew it wasn’t. I pretended I didn’t. “I don’t want to be your fake friend that you fuck.”
“You want to be friends? Because I can live with that. I can accept that, as long as you stay in my life.” His jaw tightened. His throat moved. “I don’t want to lose you.”
I looked down at my hands, still scratching at my nail beds. “Sure. Fine. I think that would be fine.”