Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 117377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
She skipped the meeting and headed to her office. She immediately dug her phone out of the bag to check her messages. Smith had sent a pic of his new girlfriend, a pretty brunette named Kelly. Kyle and Dumi had both sent adorable pics of their two-month-old daughter, Pippa Jenson-Sechaba. Tina smiled fondly as she stared at the photos of her brand-new niece. It had taken a while for the couple to finalize everything and to finally adopt their gorgeous daughter, shortly after Tina’s return to Riversend. Tina was happy for them and couldn’t wait to meet her niece.
She sometimes marveled at how much her attitude toward babies had changed. She had loved finally meeting her three-month-old nephew, Edward—Kitty and Conrad’s son—on her last visit home. And she was now happy to babysit Clara, even though she was still not confident enough to do it for more than an hour or two. Small steps that to Tina felt like great leaps.
She still slept with her night-light on, but the last nightmare she’d had was on the night she’d returned to Riversend. She scared the bejesus out of poor Greyson. He demanded a spare key to her house after that, so that he could “wake her the hell up” the next time she screamed bloody murder in the middle of the night. Thankfully, he hadn’t had to use the key at all since then.
There was a quick knock on her door, and Libby entered the office without waiting for a response from Tina. She sank into the chair across from Tina’s and looked at her for a moment. Libby seemed completely stressed out.
“What’s up, Libby? You okay?”
“I’m hoping you could give me a week or so off. I’ll prep Agnes and the rest of the kitchen staff to handle things in my absence.”
“That’s fine. I know things will be handled competently while you’re away. I’m more concerned about you. Where are you going?”
Libby sighed and buried her face in her hands. Alarmed, Tina rounded her desk to place a comforting arm around her friend’s narrow, shaking shoulders. She propped Libby up and led her to the sofa. They both sat down on the small, lumpy piece of furniture, and Tina led Libby’s head down to her shoulder.
She was so shocked by her normally unflappable friend’s breakdown that she was momentarily incapable of speaking. Instead, she continued to offer her crying friend unconditional love and support.
After the initial storm had passed, Libby sat up self-consciously and patted her swollen, wet face with her palms. Tina got up and retrieved a box of tissues, handing it to her grateful friend before sitting down beside her again.
“Want to talk about it?”
“I just need a break. I thought I’d take Clara to visit my parents and the Chapmans. I came here to get away from him, but he’s just always around.” Naturally she didn’t have to elaborate on who he was. “And I’ve made stupid mistakes. I’ve allowed . . . things to happen.” She blushed, and, once again, no elaboration was needed. “And I can’t refuse to let him see Clara—he adores her. But it’s not just Clara he wants to see. And I can’t . . . I can’t let him into my heart again.”
Tina had her doubts as to whether Greyson had ever really left her friend’s heart, but she refrained from saying as much.
“Has he spoken about what he wants?” Tina asked carefully, and Libby blew her nose before shaking her head.
“You know that man; he’s a frickin’ closed book. Who the hell knows what’s going on in that head of his? I know he loves Clara, I know he wants me, but that’s the extent of it. I’m not settling again, Tina. Never again. Why can’t relationships and men and . . . I don’t know . . . life be uncomplicated? Why does it all have to hurt so much?”
Why, indeed?
Tina wished she had the answers to those questions; maybe then she wouldn’t go through every day feeling like she had a huge gaping hole in her heart. She was hemorrhaging her hard-earned happiness through that stupid hole and knew only one thing would fix it.
Harris had come to Jonah Spade’s office with the intention of confronting the man about what he had done a decade ago. But Jonah had taken one look at Harris and hugged him like they were long-lost friends before steering him toward one of the overstuffed chairs in front of his desk. He sat on the other one and angled himself to face Harris.
“How the hell are you, buddy?” the man was saying. His effusiveness physically nauseating Harris. He wasn’t this man’s friend. He had never been his friend. Jonah Spade had always been an acquaintance desperate to be more.
Harris’s eyes ran over the guy’s office. He had done some checking before coming here and had discovered that Jonah Spade held a low-ranking position in his father’s shipping company. Apparently, his father was looking for someone outside of the company to take over once he retired. Jonah enjoyed a lavish lifestyle thanks to his trust fund and only rarely set foot in this office. Spending his days playing golf or at the country club, drinking and chatting up pretty waitresses.