Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
BETH
This was a mistake.
The thought finally broke through the numbness as Iain Erstwhile introduced me to people whose names I’d never remember. His hand was on my lower back, and it felt wrong there. His hand didn’t belong there.
For the first time in a week, my heart rate sped up.
There had been nothing after I lost control of myself in the shower. Like this veil had come over me to protect me from my own emotions. My mum and dad were constantly texting because the last time we’d spoken, they’d known something was wrong. My team had asked me all week if I was all right.
“I’m fine,” I kept saying.
But I wasn’t anything.
I felt nothing.
Not panic.
Not anxiety.
Nothing.
It was extreme. Even when my period came the day after, I felt nothing. Usually my hormones had me a bit all over the place.
But nothing.
Just going through the motions. The only calculated thing I did was avoid him. I didn’t think his name. Couldn’t. I got up, left when I knew he wouldn’t be around, went to the gym, got to work. Lily asked me to be a guest on her podcast. I said yes. We scheduled it in. I brought on a new author client. We lost a client. Iain Erstwhile asked me to be his date to a charity benefit he was attending in the city. We’d talk about Social Queens becoming his local SM management for Pennington’s. I said yes. I bought a dress. My period ended so silk was safe to wear. I put on nice shoes. Did my hair. Looked in the mirror.
I felt nothing.
Until him.
Until seeing him outside the apartment building for the first time in this never-ending week. It didn’t hit me like a freight train. No, it was like the first fissure in the veil of numb. As I sat in the dark limo with Iain and he smiled in the way a man smiles at a woman he wants, I felt another crack in my numbness. Because I felt a slither of panic instead.
With each step we took at the formal party, every person he introduced me to, every time he brushed his body against mine, there was another crack, another splinter. Until the numbness gave way to this compression weighing painfully on my chest.
I could feel a panic attack coming on.
Excusing myself, I hurried into the ladies’ restroom in time to lock myself in a stall. Dread crashed over me as my chest constricted, cold tingles breaking out across my face as fear rendered me frozen against the stall door.
Finally, I got a hold of myself enough to go through my mindfulness.
What I could see, hear, and smell.
The latter was unpleasant, and I wrinkled my nose at my surroundings. You’d think at a fancy do like this, they’d keep the restroom cleaner. That made me snort to myself. At my own ridiculousness.
I was a mess.
My pulse was still erratic and my legs trembled, but at least I felt like I could breathe again.
But the grief was horrendous. Seeing Callan …
I was angry at myself for letting my heart attach to him. For letting him break my heart.
And I was furious at myself for agreeing to go on a date with the biggest potential client I’d ever met. It was so bloody obvious Iain was more interested in having sex with me than a business arrangement.
I needed to leave.
I couldn’t stay here.
Not when I felt like I might burst into loud, messy sobs any second now.
There was a queue as I left the stall, and I didn’t meet anyone’s eyes in case I bumped into someone I knew. Not that it was likely. My parents might be well-known in Edinburgh, but they didn’t attend things like these anymore unless absolutely necessary.
After splashing cold water on my wrists, I left the restroom in search of Iain. I saw him chatting and smiling with an attractive brunette and felt not even a twinge of jealousy. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attractive or that past me wouldn’t consider a May-December affair.
He wasn’t Callan.
And until I was over him, I couldn’t be with anyone. Not even in the casual sense.
I approached Iain and despite the brunette’s obvious flirting, he turned into me as soon as I reached him. Iain slipped his arm around my waist, drawing me into his side. “There you are.”
I smiled awkwardly at the brunette who sneered in disappointment and strolled off.
“Let’s leave.” Iain picked up my braid, his knuckles brushing my breast in a move that might have been deliberate. “We can talk … business.”
“I’d like to talk business.” I stepped out of his hold. “But this was a mistake coming here as your date. I’m not … I can’t. Business, great. This”—I gestured between us—“I’m just … someone hurt me recently, and I’m not in a place—”