Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“A Mr. Harrison” he says, and I swallow the lump. “I tried to call you, but …”
“That’s okay,” I say to him. “Actually, from now on, I’d like all guests announced.”
“Of course,” he says to me, and I walk to the elevator. I press the button and finally walk into my house.
Making my way upstairs, I get out of the warm clothes and slip on a pair of yoga pants and a top. I’m making myself a coffee when the phone rings. “Hello?” I say.
“There is a Manning who is here to see you,” the security guard says.
“Send him up,” I say and hang up the phone. I walk over to the door and open it right when he steps off the elevator. He looks over at me, and his smile turns into a frown.
“When is the last time you ate?” He comes to me and gives me a hug. I try to be strong, but the lump forms in my throat. He lets me go, and I wipe the tear coming out of the corner of my eye with my thumb. He takes out his phone and then looks at me. “I just ordered us lunch.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, and we walk into the house.
“I know that, but I wanted to,” he says softly. I sit on the couch, and he sits on the couch in front of me.
“This has to be the most awkward I’ve ever felt around you,” I say, and he laughs.
“More awkward than seeing naked photos of my wife having sex with someone else?” he jokes, and I laugh.
“Okay, fine, that was a little bit more awkward,” I admit to him.
“How are you?” He leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees.
“I’m good,” I lie, and he knows it. “Okay, fine. I’m not good, okay?” I wring my hands together. “I’m mad. I’m angry. I’m pissed off, and I’m fucking sad.”
He shakes his head. “I have no idea what he was thinking.”
I put my hands up. “I don’t even want to put you in that position. You are not going to be put in the middle of this.”
“I’m not,” he says. “He fucked up,” he admits. “I might have told him that to his face.”
“Manning.” I say his name.
“No, Becca,” he sighs. “It’s fucked up. We saw you two days before. He was the one who laid down his claim, and then he goes and marries someone else. What in the ever-loving fuck is going on?”
My bottom lip trembles. “He …” I say, “he was obviously not in it as much as I thought.”
“I saw him,” Manning cuts me off. “I saw how he looked at you. You can’t fake that.”
“Well then, I guess he’s a really good actor,” I say, sitting more into the couch and curling my feet under me. “Honestly, we were together the night before,” I admit to him. “I knew something was off. He was acting weird, but I thought it was just work.”
“So when did you find out?” he asks.
“The morning when the headlines came out while I was on the treadmill,” I admit to him, and he gets up.
“I’m going to fucking kill him!” he shouts, grabbing his phone out of his pocket.
I jump off the couch, not ready for Nico to know I’m home. I am not delusional in thinking we can avoid each other, but it gives my heart more time to forget him. “Stop,” I say, and his hand stops. “Please, he doesn’t know I’m home and …”
He tosses his phone on the couch. “Oh, he and I are going to have fucking words. I can tell you that.”
“Well, good news is he can’t fire you.” I try to joke with him, and he doesn’t crack a smile.
“I don’t know how you are doing it,” he says, and I sit back down.
“Full transparency,” I say. “It’s been rough. The nights are worse than the days.” I swallow. “I was in love with him.” His mouth opens, but he doesn’t have time to say anything before there is a knock on the door, and I fly up, afraid it’s Nico.
“I got it,” he says. “Stay here.” I nod at him and watch him walk out of the room. He comes back two seconds later with a brown bag. The smell makes my mouth water. “It’s just food.”
He sets the bag on the middle of the coffee table, taking the fries out and then handing me a burger. “Thank you,” I say, sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table. “For doing this.” He sits down in front of me. “For checking on me.”
“Becca,” he says my name and I look at him. “You are one of my closest friends. What you did for me, there is nothing I can do to pay you back.”