Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
While I met with Osprey, a storm rolled in.
It’s the middle of the day, but it’s dark as night out. Perfect. It matches my mood.
I trek through ankle-deep cold water, plop down in the driver’s seat, and turn the car on, hoping the heat works quickly.
A text message pops up from Abby.
Hey Reese, big news. They have the head honcho cartel dude in custody. He’ll have a trial soon. This is goodbye until he’s away. Millie & I love you. Hopefully we’ll be home before Christmas.
Christmas? That’s almost six months away.
God.
So, I’m even more alone. I cross my arms on the steering wheel, lean into them, and battle back dry sobs.
When my tear ducts dry, I drive to Brandt Ideas, praying it’s time for something like normalcy.
* * *
At the office, I pull up to the curb.
Ward slides in as grump-faced as ever. “You’re late.”
I am, and he’s been more than understanding about everything going on.
I turn to face him. “I’m very sorry. It won’t happen again, boss.”
“If it does, you know I won’t buy it when you tell me you’re okay. Are you?”
I nod firmly.
“We’re just going to pick up Paige, Reese.” His voice softens. “It’s no big deal.”
“You should be upset with me. I haven’t been doing a good job of holding it together and it’s spilling over into my performance.”
“Reese, you’ve been through hell. I can deal with that,” he says.
“Thanks.” I pull onto the street and head for the art gallery.
The ride passes in silence. Ward is basically the opposite of Nick. Friendlier than he used to be, but aloof. Ward works from his phone the whole time he’s in the car. The only person he puts work aside for is Paige, and that’s okay, even if it reminds me of what I’ve lost.
The ride passes in peaceful silence.
But driving Nick’s brother around all day is hard.
I’m so tempted to ask, “Have you heard from him?” But that would be an admission of sorts and also pathetic.
Later, I pull up next to the front door of Paige’s studio.
She comes out wearing a sleek blue dress. Ward steps out and opens the door for her like her personal knight.
Once they’re inside, Paige pokes Ward in the chest with her finger. “You’re late. Were you too busy to put work down again—”
“Paige,” he says softly.
She laughs. “I’m just joking, grumpypants. But I’ve always said Brandt Ideas is your mistress. Timeliness, sir.”
“Paige—”
I turn around. “It was my fault, Paige. I’m sorry.”
Her mouth forms an O. “Have you been crying, Reese?”
“No,” I lie.
“Holy crap. Hold on.”
She climbs out the back door, walks around the car, and sits in the passenger seat. She leans over. “Have you heard from him?”
Isn’t that the million-dollar question? But does that mean they haven’t heard from him either?
Absolute panic consumes me. God, just let him be okay.
I back out of the parking lot and let out a painful breath.
“I haven’t.”
“Idiot! I’m going to kick him in the balls, and...and I might even bring a pie into it!”
“You’re never gonna let that thing with Heron go, huh?” Ward chuckles from the back, referencing the time she slapped billionaire mogul Magnus Heron with a pie for grinding her bestie’s heart into dust.
That’s the Paige we all know and love.
“Also, you abandoned me,” Ward says.
“I’m sorry! Tell your brother he’s going to need a new pair of family jewels,” Paige says with a hostile grin.
I dart my eyes at Paige and stare at her before looking back at the road.
“You two are so funny,” I say with a laugh.
Even though I’m smiling, Nick’s stupid, arrogant face flashes through my brain.
We could’ve been cute like them.
We could’ve been a lot of things.
But now, we’re only heartbreak, and I don’t think we’re ever meant to be anything more.
30
Big Decision (Nick)
I wake up just before landing with a lance of sunlight blinding me.
Good morning to you, too, Destiny, you twisted fuck.
I grab my luggage the second I’m off the plane, moving through the airport’s thick morning crowd to ground transportation. A gift shop with huge bouquets in bright colors halts me midstep.
Damn. Flowers alone can’t make up for the crap I pulled, but a side of flowers with an eviscerating apology and a whole mess of groveling might.
I walk up to the counter. “Can I get the orange and yellow roses in the display case?”
“One dozen or three?”
“Three.”
“Someone’s a lucky lady!” The florist smiles and shuffles over to the glass case with her key.
“I doubt it makes up for the hell I’ve put her through,” I mutter.
Her smile disappears as she returns with my flowers.
“In that case, at least you tried. Good luck.”
I swipe my credit card as spools of cotton-sugar catch my eye. I think of Reese and smile.
“A bundle of cotton candy, too, please.” I grab a blue and pink cloud from the rack and throw it on the counter.