Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
I told myself it wasn’t real.
“Do you know Alex?”
My gaze ripped away from him and landed on Floyd. He appeared smaller than the man I’d seen in pictures. Still, a handsome man in his forties with thick salt and pepper hair and irresistible dimples accentuating his warm smile.
“Alex?” I muttered, feeling on the verge of passing out.
Floyd glanced back at him. “Alex. My head of security. Or maybe you’re just like all the other women who find him rather pretty to look at.” He chuckled. “I used to be young and handsome like him.”
Tim laughed. “Didn’t we all.”
“No.” I shook my head slowly, forcing my gaze to stay on Floyd. “I don’t know Alex. I’m … uh …” I shook my head quickly to regain some sense of composure as I held out my hand. “I’m sorry. I’m Livy Knight. It’s a true honor to meet you.”
“Livy is our newest associate. Top of her class. Did some work in San Francisco with Tim’s old partner, and Tim personally drove to San Francisco to steal her. We didn’t give her a heads-up that she’d be thrown into the deep end on her first day by meeting you.” Tricia covered for me, and I was so grateful.
I was also grateful when she poured me a glass of water and shoved it into my hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Floyd shook my sweaty hand.
“Well, time is money.” Tim winked at Floyd. “Shall we?” He nodded to the seat opposite him.
I eased into my chair and risked another glance at Alex.
After a few seconds, he blinked. The man I remembered could go forever without blinking.
The meeting lasted just over an hour. I heard nothing except my heart pounding against my aching chest. I felt nothing but pain swelling in my stomach and throbbing in my head as I tried to make sense of him.
Living.
Breathing.
Haunting me in every way possible.
And just when I didn’t think the punch to my gut could hurt anymore, the meeting ended and everyone stood. The ghost at the door gave a hand gesture to one of his team members in the hallway, and my gaze locked onto his hand. His left hand. And the silver band on his ring finger.
He was married.
The man who loved me back … the man who protected me.
He died.
He came back to life.
And he married another woman.
Nothing … nothing had ever felt so fucking painful. Not Jessica’s fists landing on my face and ribs. Not the night a man tried to rape me. Not even the day I thought he died.
My mom’s death. It felt like that.
Unexpected.
Unimaginable.
Un-fucking thinkable.
I’m happy you’re alive.
I’m happy you’re in love.
I’m happy you’re happy.
My mind tried to latch onto something positive. Mind over matter.
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t be happy that he was alive and with anyone but me. Maybe that made me a terrible person. Or maybe that made me twenty-six, heartbroken, and human.
Love was supposed to be many beautiful things. And it was. But at the core of love, there existed this really selfish need. I refused to believe that if you truly loved someone you’d set them free. No. You didn’t set them free.
You held them.
You nurtured them.
You made their happiness yours.
His hand dropped to his side as Floyd headed to the door after saying goodbye to everyone, including me. I think I smiled or nodded, but I can’t remember. He curled his fingers and ran the pad of his thumb over the ring. My focus shifted up his body, and it latched on to his gaze. He knew what caught my attention because his gaze quickly averted to Floyd.
In seconds, they were gone.
“Let’s show you your office. I remember what it felt like on my first day at a big firm. I’m pretty sure I was as nervous and pale as you.” Tricia nodded toward the door.
In one hour, my hopes were resurrected from the dead only to be demolished by a little round band.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol.
Not one. Not ever.
My dad ruined that for me. He no longer consumed alcohol, but I couldn’t erase the man he was—absent and barely living—after Mom died. When I lost Slade, I thought about drinking, finding something to numb the pain.
I didn’t.
When I passed my boards, I didn’t celebrate with alcohol like the rest of my friends.
I surfed.
I hiked the hills of LA.
I sparred with my dad and sometimes Jessica.
I focused on searching for a job.
After seeing that ghost, I picked up a bottle of wine and headed back to my apartment.
“Hey, Jerry.” I managed a tiny greeting. Even Jericho had to think something was wrong with me. I usually greeted him with infectious enthusiasm.
Not that day.
I set the wine and my purse on the counter. “Let’s go potty, babe.” I fought an onslaught of tears, the same ones I’d been fighting all afternoon.