Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“What?” he asks, shocked, his voice going tight. “A man about a horse?” He leers at me. “Is that why you won’t take me back, too busy rolling around in the hay with a hillbilly?”
I laugh as loud as I possibly can, and everyone stops talking and looks my way. This time I don’t care who fucking hears me. “Your crude response just goes to show how truly ignorant you are. No, dumbass, I’m not going to buy a horse. I know you are very familiar with the saying save a horse and ride a cowboy.” His face turns beet red as he just glares at me. “Besides, my cowboy treats me like a fucking princess and would never think about batting an eye at another woman.” I push away from the table, and his eyes look like they are going to pop out of his head while his head explodes. I turn to walk away from him, flipping him the bird. “And by the way, I’ve always wanted to tell you this, my middle finger is bigger than your dick.” The shocked gasps come out of more than just him. “Ta-ta.” I wiggle my fingers at him and walk out of the restaurant, feeling lighter than I’ve ever felt. “Take that,” I say, turning and making my way back to my house.
My eyes fly open when the doorbell rings, and it takes me a minute to get up off the couch. I was working, and then I got so fucking tired I had to lie down. I literally thought my eyes were going to close while I was sitting down. The doorbell rings again, and this time, I toss my blanket off me. The minute I lift my head, my stomach rumbles, making me close my eyes. This is apparently the new normal for having a broken heart. You get sick to your stomach all the time, so much so that you can’t eat, and even when you do eat, it feels like you are going to yack every second. I walk out of the living room toward the door when the bell rings again. “I’m coming,” I say, opening the door and seeing a man holding a brown bag in his hand with a vase of flowers in the other.
“Zara Petrov?” he asks, and I nod.
“These are for you.” He holds out the vase for me. “And this also.”
“Thank you.” I reach out for the vase, tucking it in my arm, hissing when I touch my nipple. Before grabbing the bag, I say, “Have a nice day.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He smiles before turning and walking away. I shut the door, walking to the kitchen to place the vase on the counter with the bag next to it. Pulling out the card, my hands shake as I pull it open. The minute my eyes see the card, the tears well up, and I blink, hoping they leave, but instead, they fall down my cheeks.
Happy Valentine’s Day to my favorite auntie.
Love RC
I smile and wipe the tears with the back of my hand, opening the bag and seeing a sprinkle cupcake in it. I push away the picture of Gabriel that pops into my head every fucking day. Every fucking time I close my fucking eyes, it’s him. It’s always fucking him, and he gives zero fucks about me. It’s fucking Valentine’s Day, and he hasn’t even texted me once. Okay, fine, I haven’t reached out to him, but usually it’s always the man who checks in on the woman, isn’t it?
My phone rings from the living room, and I rush over to grab it, seeing that it’s a FaceTime from Sofia. I slide it open and cringe when I see that the tip of my nose is red, but it’s too late because Sofia’s face fills the screen with a gummy drooling RC next to her. “Can we say happy Valentine’s Day to auntie?” she says with a smile to him, and then she looks at me.
“What happened?” she asks, and I just shake my head.
“Nothing, nothing,” I reply. “Thank you for the lovely present.” I smile, pretending that I’m fine. “How is my Valentine doing?” I ask RC, who moves his hands up and down excitedly.
“You look a little pale.” She observes, and I roll my eyes, pulling my sweater closed in front of me and wincing when my hand rubs against my nipples.
“What’s wrong?”
“My nipples are killing me,” I say in annoyance. “For the past week, the minute I touch them it’s like someone is stabbing me.”
“Good God, you sure you aren’t pregnant?” She laughs at me, and my head spins. “I remember when I was pregnant with RC. If Matty touched my nipples, I would cry.” She stops talking, looking at me. “You aren’t pregnant, right?”
“No.” I sit up. “Of course not,” I say, running up the stairs to the bathroom and taking out my birth control pills. “I’m going to get my period in two days, at least I hope so because I missed last month, but that was only because I had to double up on a couple of them.” I don’t bother telling her that it was because I stayed at Gabriel’s house for three days and had to take them when I got back to her house. “Plus, the month before, I was off because I didn’t take them for like five days before I remembered I left them at the other place.” I’m rambling at this point, and my legs are starting to tremble, knowing I finished my period a full two days before I went dress shopping. And Daniel and I hadn’t had sex since Halloween night. We went a whole month without sex. That should have been a huge red flag.