Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
I’m taken back to that night with Blaire and my family. I was so nervous about taking her around my brothers. Every time I pictured it in my head, they’d say something stupid, and she’d be offended. Or she’d realize my mother has been trying to marry me off for the past ten years and bail. But then I realized I didn’t want to go without her.
I was so damn proud to be there with her, to show her off to my parents and brothers. And not because she was some kind of physical trophy, although she was a knockout in that tight black shirt, but because she was classy and smart. And just for that night, she was mine.
She was there with me as a man she met in the airport. She didn’t give a shit about my money or what my last name means here or that Coy was my brother—hell, she didn’t even know. She was just attending an event with a guy who she deemed worthy of being with.
Me.
My spirits fall.
“Okay, so, Oliver said that you’re all messed up today. Wanna talk about it?” Riss asks.
“No, I don’t wanna talk about it. I want to go drink some more and try to forget it.”
“Big mistake, buddy.”
“It was a big mistake to answer your call.”
I pour myself a drink and wonder if I can hang up on her. I don’t because she’d just show up at my house and let herself in.
She’s done it before.
“Blaire left,” I say.
It comes out harsh and cold, but I don’t know how to make it sound less blunt.
Riss sucks in a deep breath that doesn’t go unnoticed by me. “Well, this puts things in perspective.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
It’s a lie. I’m not fine. But I don’t know what else to say. Do I admit I’m the fucking disaster I feel like I am? That won’t help anyone.
“Sometimes, it’s easier to pretend that you don’t care than to admit that you’re dying inside,” she says.
“That’s poetic.”
She sighs. “Well, I guess I see why Blaire left now.”
“Oh, do you?”
“Yes. You’re an asshole.”
“True enough.” I take a long drink before smacking my lips together. “Is that all you called for?”
“Sure. That’s it. Good luck recovering from this one.”
I lean against the counter and shake my head. “This will go away. I just need to put some time and distance between Blaire and me.”
“Sorry to break it to you, but real feelings don’t go away.”
“You’re on fire tonight with the inspirational bullshit.”
“Just here to help.”
“Well, you’re not.”
I walk to the window and look out at the pool. Blaire’s favorite chair sits empty. All that remains from her time sitting out there is a bright red hair elastic on the deck.
It takes everything I have not to go get it.
I turn away. I can’t look at it.
“Let me ask you something,” I say to my cousin. “What is love?”
She laughs.
“Forget it,” I say.
“No! No, no, no. I just didn’t expect that.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that you were going to ask me why you should go get her? I was totally ready to convince you. I had a speech queued up and ready to go.”
I grin. “I’m not going after her.”
“May I ask why not?”
I down the rest of my drink before answering her.
“I don’t have the energy to fight at work and fight when I get home, Riss. I can’t afford to chase her down—especially when I have so much shit happening right now.” I set the glass on the counter. “And you know what? She needs someone who can spend the weekends walking around town with her and not feel guilty. She deserves someone who can have a fucking conversation without their phone going off fourteen times. That someone is not me.”
“But you asked her to stay, right?”
My silence speaks for itself.
“Holt …”
“She has a full life in Chicago. I have a full life here. We both are so busy that it would never work anyway, even if it were a good idea.”
“I’m assuming you got her opinion on the matter. Right?”
“She’ll agree once she gets home and thinks about it.”
She groans. “I could kill you right now.”
“For being kind? Thoughtful? Mature? Okay.”
“For being a fucking idiot. How can someone so brilliant be so dense at the same time?”
The alcohol begins to do its job. My veins pulse with an unnatural warmth. My head fogs with a welcomed haze. I’m still well aware that Blaire is gone and that I’m a well-intentioned asshole, but the sharpness of the pain is muted.
Thank God.
“Tell you what,” I tell her. “I’ll try to call her again. If she doesn’t answer, I’ll assume that’s her way of telling me to go fuck myself. And if that’s the case, I’ll agree with her methodology.”
“Please, Holt—please think about this before you make it worse.”