Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Only friendly on first dates when he wants to get his dick wet . . . asshole.
I’m infuriated just by seeing him again.
“Thanks for the scones.” I smile. “It was lovely to meet you. I have to get going.”
“Goodbye, Juliet.”
I wave and walk back into my house and feel a little proud of myself as I close the door.
That went okay. I’ll probably never run into him again. Maybe this won’t be the disaster I thought it was going to be.
An hour later, I fold a T-shirt and throw it into Mom’s suitcase as it lies on her bed. “Now remember,” I tell her as I pack her things, “if anyone tries to grab you or you feel unsafe, call the tour guide immediately.”
“I know.”
“And if Dad gets too chatty with people, don’t let him tell them all his details. You know he’s an oversharer, and you can’t trust everyone that you meet overseas. It isn’t the same as home, Mom.”
“Yes. Yes, I know.” Mom rolls her eyes at my lecturing.
“And if Dad’s ankle gives him trouble, it’s okay to have a few rest days at the hotel.”
“Oh, Juliet, stop worrying.” She sighs.
I exhale heavily. With all the house stuff I’ve had going on, it’s only just hitting me that my parents are traveling alone for the first time overseas. It’s a little terrifying. “If anything medical happens, just call me, and I’m on the first plane.”
“Yes, yes.”
“Someone’s at the door,” my dad calls from the bathroom.
“Who would that be?” Mom asks.
“I think it’s the delivery man.” I throw the sweater into the case and bound down the stairs. I open the door to see Henley. “Oh,” I stammer, taken aback. “Henry.”
He stares at me deadpan.
“Yes?”
“If you call me by the wrong name again, there will be hell to pay.”
“Sorry.” Unable to help it, I smile. “Forgive me, but what was your name again?”
“You actually don’t remember me?”
I wince as I act worried. “I’m so sorry, should I?”
He twists his lips, unimpressed.
“When did we meet?” I shrug. “Was it at work? I’m a nurse, so I meet a lot of people, and I’m terrible with faces.”
He leans in. “I don’t know what you are playing at by pretending not to know me,” he whispers angrily, “but I do not appreciate you bombarding your way into my street.”
“Your street?”
“That’s right.” His jaw tics as he glares at me.
“I mean, I do know the cul-de-sac is called Kingston Lane, but I didn’t realize it had its very own king. How lucky we are.”
“You are not funny,” he snaps.
I so am.
“Please tell me what your problem is?” I ask impatiently.
“I think you know.”
“I don’t. You keep saying we met, but I have no idea where. So unless you are willing to tell me what the issue is, we have nothing to talk about.”
“Don’t shit me,” he sneers. “I know you remember me. Don’t play dumb.”
I feel my temper rise. This man is an infuriating fucking pig.
“I’m not sure where we know each other from, but it has become very clear why I’ve chosen to forget you. Still practicing being an asshole, are you?”
“Not practicing.” His furious eyes hold mine. “Perfected.”
Good comeback.
“What do you want? Do you want me to congratulate you on becoming a perfected asshole?” I whisper angrily.
“I want you to move, that’s what I want. Our street does not need someone like you living here.”
“Tough shit, King Henley the Fucking Great, I’m not moving, and nobody judges me but me, so stay out of my way.”
His eyes bulge. “You stay out of my way.”
“No prize for seconds, dickhead. Don’t copy my comeback.”
“I swear to fucking god . . . ,” he whispers angrily.
“Juliet.” My father’s voice rings out as the screen door opens. “Who is your friend?”
Crap.
Henley and I step back from each other. “Dad, this is my neighbor. He just stopped by to say hi.”
This is awkward. I told my parents about my letdown of a date back then when it happened. And although I never told them his name, if Henley asks where my fiancé is, I’m screwed.
“Dad, meet Henley.” I gesture to Henley. “Henley, meet my dad; Henley was just leaving,” I blurt out in a rush.
Oh my god, leave.
Leave now.
“Hello.” Dad smiles as he shakes his hand.
Henley fakes a smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“Beautiful place you live in,” Dad replies. “It’s like heaven here.”
Henley’s eyes flick to me as if he’s about to say something. “It was—is,” Henley corrects himself.
“We’re going to Europe tomorrow, the missus and I. Excited is an understatement,” Dad continues.
“How long for?” Henley asks.
“Four months.”
“Henley was just leaving, weren’t you?” I widen my eyes as a buzz-off sign. “You really don’t need to make me scones. Thank you for the offer, though.”
He begins to walk down the four front steps.
“Henley,” my dad calls.
Henley turns back. “Yes?”