Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Gabriella?” he asks. “The girl you brought to dinner last year?”
“Yes,” I admit to him. “That one.”
“I thought the two of you went your separate ways,” he reminds me, not that I told him, but when I didn’t bring her up anymore, I assumed he got the memo. I mean, I never really brought anyone around because I was never serious about anyone, and I wasn’t ready to open myself up. But with Gabriella, it just felt different.
“We did,” I confirm and turn to my back, my head sinking into the feathered pillows. “Dad, I fucked up.” The pain in my chest tightens, and a burning creeps up the back of my neck.
He just stares at me. “What do you mean you fucked up?”
“I mean, I fucked up, and I know I fucked up, and now here I am.” I can’t even begin to tell him how I messed up, knowing he would probably not be okay with it, and the last thing I want to do is to have him think less of me. It’s one thing when your parents are mad at you. It’s a whole different story when they are disappointed in you.
“Does she even know you’re there?” he asks softly. “Or at least that you’re coming?”
“She does now. I went straight to her place,” I admit to him.
“So she wasn’t expecting you?” he asks as he sits back in his chair. “What did she say?”
“After she told me that it would be a cold day in hell.” I can hear her voice again clear as day. “I think it went well,” I admit to him, and I turn to look out the window.
“How did you know where to find her?” he quizzes me, and I shake my head.
“The truth?” I ask, and he glares at me.
“No, the made-up bullshit you are going to tell everyone else,” he hisses. He’s been around long enough to know there are certain things you only trust your closest people with. It’s sad that I had to find out the hard way about this, but at least now I know.
“I saw a picture that someone tagged her in,” I admit to him. Ever since the last phone call, I was sure she would block me on all social media accounts. But because she’s the classiest woman I know, she actually didn’t. I mean, that didn’t tell me where she went. It just meant I could easily go on her Instagram and regret every single thing I’d ever done. I knew she had left LA, but I had no idea where she went. There was talk she went back to New York and a couple of people said Europe. I never really flat-out asked because by asking, I would have to admit that we were secretly together and then I would have to admit how bad I hurt her. So her social media was my only answer. I had no idea until I saw the picture of her twin sister announcing her pregnancy, and I knew she was in Dallas with her. “Then I asked someone who was working with her, pretending as if it was just shooting the shit. In reality, I was ready to jump off the ledge, and it dropped where she was.” I might have maybe, perhaps, called in a few favors to get her home address. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
“So she didn’t tell you?” he asks, and I shake my head. “Jesus, tenacious.” I can’t help but laugh at him. “So now she told you to go to hell.”
“And to basically eat shit and die,” I put in, closing my eyes as my father laughs at me.
“I mean, you showed up.” He tries to help me, but I close my eyes before I tell him the next part because he might kick my ass at this point.
“After eight months,” I confess, and he hisses and shakes his head.
“What is wrong with you?” he shouts and slams his hand on the table in front of him. “You bring this girl around, shocking all of us.” His voice goes loud. “Then apparently, you fuck up so much she moves to Dallas, which is very far from LA. Where you follow her and show up at her house.” He puts his face closer to the phone. “Eight months later.” I nod. “You’re an idiot.”
“I had to be sure,” I say softly. “I mean, I knew I was sure, but I had to be someone she can be proud of. I had to be that man for her and not just Tyler Beckett’s son.” He just shakes his head.
“Well, what are you going to do now?” he asks, folding his hands on the table.
I smirk at him, not even thinking twice. I’ve been working on this for the past eight months. Making sure I was ready for, well, forever. “I’m going to get my woman back.”