Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Does he feel the loss or is he so used to sacrificing that it no longer bothers him?
Or there’s a third scenario. He never cared about me at all. I was there and willing to have sex with him, and why should he turn me down?
My chest feels heavy. “I hope they make the right choice.”
Ivy moves over and sits next to me again. “I’ll call CeCe and get the name of a lawyer. Are you okay with me sparking a shit ton of rage in her so she’ll get angry at the world and pay for everything?”
That sounds perfect to me. Especially since I can afford next to nothing. I don’t feel bad about it either, because CeCe lives for this kind of drama. “Do you want me to cry in the background?”
Ivy pulls out her phone. “That’s a good plan. Can you cry on cue now?”
I burst into tears because I give myself permission to relive last night’s utter heartbreak.
Even Ivy looks scared. She presses in a number and holds the phone to her ear. “Thomas, I’m going to need to talk to CeCe. We’ve got a big problem.”
Harper sniffles and wraps me up in her arms.
I let them take care of me while I try to purge myself of this awful heartache.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I’m showered and dressed in clean clothes by afternoon. My mom and Tonya have already been by, and I cried some more. Mom had only heard that I got cut. I told her the whole story, and she is vowing to spend her entire savings on a lawsuit. Tonya is vowing bloody revenge via cupcakes or something. I have to make sure no one gets poisoned.
Luckily CeCe is already on the case. I have an appointment in the morning with someone she swears will chew through whoever Pinnacle sends in. They’ve already accepted me as a client in what they call a wrongful termination lawsuit, though I haven’t exactly been fired. It’s something they can work through, they promised me. In addition, CeCe has vowed to sell all her shares in Pinnacle and advise others to as well.
I am unsure as to the legalities of that. Stocks aren’t my thing. She might spend some time in the Martha Stewart wing of a prison, but I assure you she will do it with style.
I’m alone again as the afternoon wears on, sitting on my fire escape and watching the people walking by, a mug of tea my mom made for me in my hands. My aloneness is something I feel so sharply. I’ve lived by myself for years, but I wouldn’t have called myself lonely. I feel the singularity of my existence now. I have friends and family, but without him I feel lonely. In the course of a few weeks that man became something necessary to me.
I sit here wondering if he’s already on a plane for his home. I’m angry and restless, and there’s a part of me that simply hopes he’s okay. He was put in a position where he thought there was only one way out. Responsibility forced him to choose between his heart and his duty. He’s a good king.
Can I blame him? Yeah. Irrational me can blame his ass all day long. The trouble is the reasonable me keeps showing up.
I think this is the first time I’ve really been in love because no matter what he did to me, I still want the best for him. It would be different if he cheated or lied. But he didn’t. Circumstances happened, and he reacted like a king instead of a man because that’s what he is.
I didn’t pick a normal man to love. I picked one whose entire existence is dedicated to his people, to a crown. I thought I could help ease that burden for him, could work beside him so he would know he wasn’t alone.
I feel tears well again when I hear a knock on the door. Will I ever stop crying?
My girls are back and earlier than expected. They promised they would return this evening with the finest New York street foods and the cheapest bottle of wine the bodega beneath me offers. We’re going to sit and watch crap TV, and they will get me through another night.
I kind of want to be alone but I know how awful I would feel if one of them were in trouble and I wasn’t allowed to help. So I sigh and stand up and wriggle through the window, not bothering to close it behind me. The air is warm and feels oddly fresh to me. I’m back in my tiny apartment, all the glamour of the Upper East Side left behind. I’m just me again, and now I have to figure out who this me is. The me without Luca. All I know about her right now is she cries a lot and she’s not going down without a fight.