Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“You make me happy as well.”
She nods as if she understands. “How can this work? I’ve never had to deal with something like this, and I don’t know anyone who has.”
“You can walk away, Becca. Today is the day you should walk away.” I force the words out, pausing and glancing behind her to the author waiting at the door. “It will hurt less if you do it now.”
“See, that’s the thing… I don’t think it will. I think it’s going to hurt regardless,” she whispers and wipes a stray tear from her eyes before she hurries out of the room.
Did we just end it?
I’m not even sure.
My eyes flash open to knocking on my door. Loud knocking.
I drank a bottle of wine with the intent to pass out and get rid of my thoughts, but it didn’t work.
Rubbing my eyes, I walk to the door and pull it open. Three women stand on the other side. And Troy, who looks incredibly comfortable standing beside them. The thought crossed my mind, I wonder if he knows they are all connected to the mafia.
“Gurrrl.” His eyes roam me. “You look like utter shit.” He pushes his way into my apartment and doesn’t stop until he is standing in the middle of the room.
“We’ve been knocking for ages. Are you okay? We thought you did a runner,” Sailor says. I glance down at her shoes and smile. They’re the ones I got her from Lucas.
“I drank too much,” I mutter as I scan them over one at a time. Chanel, who I know the most, is with Lucas. Piper, who is third-in-command after Joey. And Sailor, who is Keir’s wife. And, of course, my best friend, Troy.
“The makeup lady came and left, but lucky for you, Chanel knows how to do it.”
Chanel pulls out her bag and sets it on my table. “I’ve been practicing, and I think I’ve gotten good at it.” She smiles.
“She’s great. Look at my face,” Sailor says, smiling.
“You need to shower, you stink.” Troy grabs me by the shoulders and turns me toward the bathroom. “We’ll be back. Get the wine,” he tells the others, smiling and stepping into my bathroom with me. “What on earth? Why do you smell like a brewery?”
“I told you I drank too much.”
“Why?” he asks, his hand going to his hip. “And get in that shower.”
I start taking off my clothes as he reaches for the faucets and turns them on.
“Becca ended things between us. And, in case you didn’t know, I’m getting married today.”
“Okay, so which one is worse?”
I step into the shower and let the water wash over my face as I think over his question.
“The breakup. I think I can deal with Joey.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“Because I’m not.”
“Okay, let’s focus on the most important issue at hand… you are about to get married. Where are you going on your honeymoon?”
“Honeymoon?” I squeak, the thought making me more nervous than walking down the aisle.
“Yes, you know, where couples go and fuck the whole time.”
“I’m not fucking him.” I spit the words out like some bitter-tasting food has been placed in my mouth.
Why didn’t I ask him about this sooner?
“Okaaay…” He reaches in, turns off the shower, and hands me a towel. “Get dressed. We have a wedding to get ready for.”
“Can I run?” I ask with an innocent smile.
“Ha, you should have run the minute you knew.” He closes the door after him as I wrap the towel around myself.
Is running still an option?
THIRTEEN
JOEY
“You think she’ll run?” Lucas muses.
“Shut up,” I say, doing up my buttons.
“I mean, I would. You’re a dick,” he says, and I groan.
“Do you really have to be here?” I argue with him.
“Yep, have pity for me.”
“Joey,” Keir interrupts our bickering. “She’s on her way.”
On her way.
Almost here.
Fuck.
“Lucas, go and take a seat outside.” Lucas heads out at Keir’s order, leaving the two of us standing here as I look at myself in the mirror. “Are you nervous?” Keir asks.
“No.” I’m not. I like Adora. My option could be a lot worse. My cousin is married to a woman who I’m pretty sure will slit his throat while he sleeps one day soon because she quite simply hates him.
I don’t hate Adora, and I hope she doesn’t dislike me.
“She will make a good wife.”
“You don’t know that,” I say to him, lifting a brow in question.
He smirks. “No, I don’t, but that’s what you want to hear, right?”
“No, it’s not what I want to hear at all. I want to hear that I am walking down the aisle to a woman I love, just like you had the chance to do.”
“You may love her… one day.”
“I like her, that’s it. No love.”
“Love takes time.” He meets my eyes in the mirror’s reflection.
“So does good sex,” I reply and pick up a bottle of bourbon, taking a shot.