Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Dad takes the opportunity of my quiet realization to jump in. “We don’t always get what we want, Carter.” He says it as though it’s a divine, important lesson. “Let’s just hope she’ll sign the annulment so you don’t lose half of everything.” Thinking that’s a valid threat or an actual possibility, he looks to the ceiling with a sigh. I don’t know if he’s praying Luna signs or praying for the patience to restrain from killing me. “I’ll call our attorney and have the paperwork prepared. And for fuck’s sake, don’t tell your mother that you got married without her.”
Like that’s that, he begins typing on his computer. Probably sending an email to legal.
It’s a clear dismissal. He’s given the final word, and I’m expected to follow along like a good dog.
But not this time.
“No,” I state firmly. “No annulment, and I’m not done with this Cartwright deal. And I’m certainly not done with Luna.”
Before he can reply, I stride out of the room, feeling free in a way I haven’t in a long time. Maybe ever. I have a mission—two of them.
Luna.
Elena.
In that order.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
LUNA
I haven’t called in sick a single day in the years I’ve worked at the museum . . . until today. I simply didn’t have it in me to ‘people’ this morning. Instead, before she left for school, Samantha got us coffee and bagels, made sure I showered and put on fresh clothes so I ‘felt cute’, and then she set me up with my tablet to work. Okay, she called it ‘drowning my emotions in a fantasy world’ but it’s the same difference.
After working on it for hours, I realized that my tablet had been at Carter’s. I have no idea how it got here, but I’m glad to have it because I’m almost finished with this edition of Alphena. Writing has been going great, this edition nearly writing itself.
In this part, Alphena’s showing a podcast dude the error of his misogynistic ways, and miraculously, he’s coming around. Even more extraordinary, it’s not because of her breasts but because of her brains.
“See . . . people can change,” Alphena proclaims triumphantly on the page.
“Blah, blah, blah,” I tell my alter-ego character, irritated that she’s ‘pro people’ at a time I’d rather shut myself off from everyone and become a hermit. I stepped way out of my comfort zone and onto an unstable raft in a storming sea of lies and emotions. Those are two things I suck at the most, but I tried my best. I really did. It still ended up with me a confused and broken mess.
I know better. That’s why I stick with scripts at the museum, close friends who know my strengths and respect my boundaries, and a fantasy world of my own design. It’s easier that way.
Looking at Alphena’s joy in her accomplishment, I consider scratching the last two chapters of happy resolution and instead, have Alphena throw Podcast Dude into a pit of snakes and let them go bitey-bitey on his balls and peen. That’d be more likely.
“Change that! Ugh!” I scribble on the tablet with my pen, and with a rumble of frustration, I toss it on the couch next to me. Flopping back, I curl up with a couch pillow in my arms. One-handed, I braid the strings of the pillow’s tassels and consider what to do with my story. And my life.
It was fine . . . until Carter.
I’m furious with him but also disappointed in myself, which only makes me angrier for what we did. Last night, I reached my threshold and simply couldn’t contain the truth anymore. It bubbled out of me, relieving a heavy pressure I didn’t realize I was fighting.
I take a sip of the coffee that’s been sitting on the table too long, annoyed that it’s gone cold but still willing to drink it since it’s sweeter than candy thanks to Samantha’s care-taking efforts. The knock at the door annoys me too, as does the blanket that tries to strangle my feet as I get up.
“Let go,” I tell the cuddly soft fabric that I usually love to cozy up with, dragging it halfway across the room. Finally, it does just before I throw open the door, annoyed with it too. “What?”
I figured it was Samantha or Zack coming over to check on me. What I don’t expect is to see Carter standing there, grinning like a fool with a black eye. “Luna,” he sighs right before he scoops me up into his arms.
My feet dangle toward the floor as he hugs me tightly. It feels so good to sink into him for a moment that my mind turns into fluffy fuzz and my whole body relaxes. Then I remember that I’m mad and I flail, kicking my feet and pushing at his shoulders. “Put me down.”