Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 131459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
He talked like it was an incident. Singular.
And the pain he was signaling seemed more concentrated. Not like he’d been fucking around and got found out, but that he’d fucked up, he definitely owned that fuckup, and was mired in his regret.
I still answered, “I don’t think so.”
“Then, Mika—”
“He was married to her for over twenty years.”
“And again,” she shot back immediately, “how is this your business?”
“Because when I heard they were divorcing, I thought I had a chance at happiness again.”
Nora’s eyes went wide as saucers.
“So there you go,” I continued. “That’s it. Years ago, your mom introduced us, and we spent an evening together, talking and connecting. This was before I met Rollo. I felt something with Tom. I felt like he saw me. I felt like he got me. Not many people did back then. He listened. He was interesting. He was funny. He was beautiful to look at. He was beautiful to listen to. He was so unlike any of the men I’d been around it was almost startling. He was the exact opposite of my father. I didn’t want the night to end. I wanted him to make love to me. I wanted to wake up next to him. I wanted to make him breakfast. I wanted to watch him play tennis. I wanted him to read my poetry and tell me what he thought. But he was married, so I couldn’t have any of that. I didn’t rediscover that feeling until I met Rollo. And I was going to give it some time, let Tom get over the split, then I was going to try to connect with him again.”
“Mika,” she said softly.
“So yes, when I figured out he’d fucked around on his wife, all that beauty that was him that I held in my heart and the hope that maybe I could reconnect with him and we could discover what we couldn’t have was dead before I’d even attempted to breathe life into it. And it pissed me off.”
“And of course you let him know that rather than saying, ‘Now tell me, what have you been doing the last two decades? Don’t leave anything out!’ Then giving him the chance to explain. After that come to terms with the fact he’s human after all. And then having sex with him at your pottery wheel.”
“Nora—”
“Listen to me,” she hissed.
And I blinked at her tone.
She carried on.
“You and I started to become friends around the time you were falling in love with Rollo. I went to your wedding. I loved him for the man he was and for you. But he’s been gone a long time, and I’m tired of watching you put obstacle upon obstacle in your own damned way so you won’t ever have to stop worshipping at the altar of Rollo Merriman.”
“Nora,” I breathed, winded by her words, shocked.
She’d never spoken like this.
Ever.
“He loved you, God, Christ, Mika, what he had for you was once-in-a-lifetime love. I know. Because I know a lot of people and I’ve lived a lot of life, and I’ve only ever seen it once. What I saw between the two of you. I can’t even begin to imagine the strength it would take to carry on after the loss of something that enormous. That beautiful. And I don’t wish to be insensitive, truly. I adore you and I’d never want to hurt you. However, I must point out the obvious. It’s been years. You must move on.”
Damn it.
I was getting angry.
Because I’d built the life I wanted after we lost Rollo. I did it with consideration and purpose. I’d had a number of relationships before him, I’d been with a number of men after he was gone. And I wasn’t going to settle for anything less than some version of what I had with him.
And I’d felt that with only two men in my life.
My husband.
And Tom Pierce.
In the meantime, I wasn’t miserable. I wasn’t unfulfilled. Sure, I was still grieving, but I’d never stop. That wasn’t unnatural. I’d talked to counselors about it. I still grieved my mother too. It was how anyone dealt with loss. The pain was paralyzing in the beginning, and the pain never really lessened.
It was like a chronic illness that wouldn’t kill you, but it had no treatment.
You just learned how to live with it.
But I knew me. I knew what I wanted. I waited to find it in Rollo. I knew I couldn’t be happy with anything else.
And I knew I wasn’t going to introduce my daughter to it either.
“I don’t want to move on,” I snapped.
“No kidding?” she snapped back.
“And if I did, it wouldn’t be with Tom Pierce.”
“Because you’ve decided he’s not perfect enough to stand up to the memory of Rollo.”
“Because he’s taken again. He’s seeing Paloma Friedrichsen.”