Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
I stalk off the dance floor and over to the bar where my brother, Jax, is still nursing his beer. I lift my finger and the bartender comes over. “Double shot of Johnnie Walker Black.”
“You got it.” She gives me a flirtatious wink before sauntering away to make my drink.
“Damn, what’s with the hard shit?” Jax asks.
When I shake my head, he says, “It doesn’t happen to have anything to do with that brown-haired, legs for days, bombshell I saw sitting across the room with her uptight boyfriend, does it?” My gaze flies over to Jax, and he’s grinning ear-to-fucking-ear. “Guess so.”
“How do you know he’s her boyfriend?”
“I don’t. I just wanted to see if I could get a rise out of you.” Jax laughs. “When are you going to admit she’s the one that got away?”
The bartender lays a napkin down in front of me then sets my shot on top. Before it even touches the paper, I snatch it out of her hand and throw it back. “She didn’t get away,” I snap, slamming the glass down. “She left. And she was nothing more than a fuck.”
Jax’s eyes go wide, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s looking just past me. When I turn to see who, or what, he’s looking at, Celeste is standing there, frozen in place. I could be wrong, but I’m almost positive she has tears in her eyes. But before I can confirm it, she takes off back to the table, clearly having heard what I said. Although, I’m not sure why that upsets her. She chose to leave. And without even so much as a goddamn goodbye.
Seven
Celeste
“She was nothing more than a fuck.” The words pound against my heart, shattering what little is left of it, piece by piece. I would’ve thought his words wouldn’t be able to hurt me. Once the heart is broken, it shouldn’t be able to break again. It’s not as if it’s been fixed or even repaired. It’s been damaged for the last ten years, just hanging together enough to continue to beat—enough to keep me alive. But it’s not in any shape to do any other type of job like hold love. At least I didn’t think it was…until now. Because as I walk back to the table, tears burning my eyes, I realize that my broken heart was intact enough to still feel. I was just simply protecting what was left of it. But his words…they were like a hammer to crystal. My fragile heart didn’t stand a chance against that force.
I always assumed he felt that way about me. If he felt more, he wouldn’t have hooked up with Amaya while with me, right? But hearing the actual words come from his mouth, confirming what I always suspected, hurt worse than any assumption. “She was nothing more than a fuck.”
When I get back to the table, Nick and Olivia are sitting in the booth with their limbs wrapped around one another—her adorable baby bump hitting the side of the table. They’re smiling and laughing, and look completely in love. I need to get away. I can’t ruin this night for them. Next week they’re going to get married and they deserve, more than anyone I know, to be happy and not be brought down by me.
I’m about to grab my clutch and leave, figuring I can make an excuse through text, when Nick looks up and spots me. His brows furrow in confusion, then all too quickly, his eyelids form into thin slits, his entire face morphing into anger. I’m not sure what he sees, until my hand comes up to my cheek and I feel the wetness. I’m crying.
“What the hell happened?” he demands, which makes Olivia turn toward me as well. Her look isn’t one of anger but sympathy. She’s worried.
“Nothing,” I say, reaching for my clutch. Nick eyes it and snatches it before I can.
“Celeste, don’t fucking ‘nothing’ me,” he growls. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Give me back my clutch.”
“No, tell me what’s wrong.”
“Are you guys excited for your big day?” I ask, changing the subject like a crazy person. But I don’t know what else to do. He has my clutch, and I can’t tell him what’s going on.
“Yes, you know we are. Don’t try to change the subject.” Nick glares.
“How are classes going?” I ask, moving onto another safe topic.
“He graduated!” Olivia squeals, then throws her hand over her mouth.
“Brown-Eyes,” Nick groans, “you weren’t supposed to tell anyone.” He’s trying to sound annoyed, but everyone knows, in Nick’s eyes, Olivia walks on water.
“Sorry.” She bats her lashes playfully.
“Hey, don’t apologize!” I shoot daggers at Nick. “We’re best friends and you don’t even tell me you’ve graduated? Why wasn’t I invited to the ceremony?” My feelings are seriously hurt right now. When Nick announced he was going back to school to get his degree in literature, I was one hundred percent supportive. Why would he hide that he graduated?