Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Now, I only had one birthday wisher.
Ari:
Happy Birthday, you kick-ass woman, you.
Ari:
Don’t forget how much I love you.
Ari:
Though I’m still here to remind you every day for the rest of your life.
Ari:
Okay, that sounded hella creepy. But you know what I mean.
Ari:
Oh. Also, I sent you a check for cash. Not too much, but enough for you to book yourself a spa day.
Ari:
You know you’ve earned it.
Ari:
Seriously, don’t come at me for the money.
Ari:
I wasn’t sure about your schedule, so I didn’t want to book you anything myself.
I smiled at my phone, fighting tears of nostalgia and self-pity.
I really wanted to be with her right now.
Correction: I wanted to time travel to two years ago, to Seoul, to the moment Dad visited and treated me and Ari to hanwoo and soju.
I swiped furiously at my eyes, texting back through a blurry curtain of tears.
Farrow:
Coming at you at full force.
Farrow:
Also, you are such a sap.
Farrow:
Love you to pieces. – F
It would be so easy to fall back asleep. To shut my eyes and forget my troubles.
Zach would let me sleep in.
Andras would deal with it, in light of my birthday.
Instead, I grabbed my duffel bag and drove down to the country club for a practice session. I was on point, focused, and hungry.
Andras, however, seemed a little distracted, so I didn’t give him shit about forgetting my birthday. Anyway, he was my trainer, not my BFF.
I had no one but myself to blame for my lack of company. Most of my friends lived in Seoul, where I’d spent my formative years.
And I was too broke, chicken-shit, and disgraced to fly over there.
Once we finished practice, I retired to the locker room for a quick change before Zach’s class. But when I pulled out my phone, I spotted a message from him.
(He’d made a show of demanding my number after he spent Monday searching for me before our so-called lunch date, berating me for not making it on time. One—we both knew he already had my number, a byproduct of his hacking skills and utter disregard for my privacy. And two—who ate lunch at 11:30? Only people with an AARP card.)
For one pathetic second, my heart rose to my throat.
Did he remember my birthday?
Zach:
Raincheck on class.
Zach:
Mom is throwing a party today.
Zach:
Apparently, I need to go over the menu details with her.
My heart crumbled into rubble, scattering all over my chest.
What did I expect, though? He didn’t know my birthday. Had no indication that I’d just turned twenty-three.
I guess he had a copy of my ID somewhere on his servers from when he hired me, but why would he check it?
With shaky fingers, I replied.
Farrow:
K. Have fun.
I drowned my sorrows in a chocolate donut from Dunkin’s. The large iced coffee felt particularly glacial beneath the freezing air.
I drove to Swallow Falls to watch the river flow, stuck a candle in the donut’s hole, and made a wish.
“Dad, if you’re up there, please give me a reason to wake up tomorrow. Anything. No matter how small. Consider it my birthday present.”
A tear dropped onto the donut, painting a shimmery line down the chocolate glaze.
I shut my eyes, tipping my chin toward the sky.
“If you do, I’ll forgive you for breaking your promise and missing my last competition.”
The chilly early winter air seared through my air pipe as I sucked in a breath, reminding myself not to fucking cry.
I had no reason to.
Pretty soon, I’d bring Vera down.
You do have a reason to, the lonely, bitter chunk of my soul reminded me. You’re all alone in this world. Your best friend is on the other side of the planet, and you’ve put all your chips on a man who wants to screw you then dump you.
My phone pinged with a message, interrupting my pity party. I yanked it out of my back pocket, biting down on the donut.
Please, be someone who cares for me. Please.
Vera:
I see you got yourself shiny new legal representation.
Vera:
Just received the letter.
Vera:
And who foots the bill for this entire nonsense? Do tell.
Vera:
That’s fine, Farrow.
Vera:
I’m still going to crush you.
Vera:
Gloves off now.
Vera:
Just how I like it.
I stared at the screen.
Three little dots danced along the bottom.
My breath hitched.
Another text box appeared.
Vera:
Happy Birthday, Farrow.
Vera:
Let’s hope it’s your last.
Any hope that Zach knew it was my birthday flew out the window when I returned to his mansion.
His home resembled a snow globe, so pretty from afar, nestled in a thin blanket of ice. The inside buzzed—warm and lit, the flurry of mouthwatering scents engulfing me like rich fabric.
By now, my shitty mood had sunk into my bones so deep, even a bulldozer couldn’t excavate it.
It didn’t help that, on my way to the kitchen, Zach’s powerful voice sliced through the air from the chamber upstairs, snapping the backs of my ears.
I hadn’t even made it to the landing, and he’d already issued a command.