Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
She texts back—Sounds good. I understand. Drive safe.
And…that’s it.
Six words. Yesterday, I thought we were at the start of something so good and right and real. Today, it’s over in six words.
I already know the only thing that’s going to make this pain easier to handle is time, but still, I place a call to Evie. When she answers, I ask, “Would you be up for pizza and beer tonight at Hella Good Pie? My treat?”
“Sure, but I thought you were at the resort for another night.”
“It got too cold,” I say, which is close enough to the truth. “And I wanted to get back and start packing. I got the Syracuse job. They want me to start after the holidays.”
Evie squeals with excitement and promises to be at the pizza place with job-celebrating bells on at seven.
“Bring the roommates if you want,” I say. “I’ll call a few of my friends from the team and make a reservation for a big table. Then, we can hit the bowling alley down the block after. Make a night of it.”
“Sounds fun. And it’ll keep my mind off how sad I am that Ian won’t be back for another visit until Christmas.”
“Yeah,” I say, my throat tight. “That’ll be good. Though you two make the long-distance thing look easy.”
“It isn’t,” she says with a laugh. “But he’s worth it. More than worth it. See you later, gator. I have oatmeal about to boil over.”
“Later,” I say and end the call, trying not to dwell on how much I wish Harlow had decided I was worth it. We were worth it.
But she didn’t, and that’s my reality, no matter how much it sucks.
And it does suck.
So fucking hard.
“Goodbye, Hepburn,” I whisper as I accelerate onto the highway, leaving the resort and all the hopes I had for the future behind me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Harlow
I drag my suitcase down the hall to the east wing, fighting tears every step of the way.
I tell myself that I did the right thing.
I tell myself that Derrick will find someone much better suited for him—and so will I. I tell myself that bonkers wonderful sex and arms that feel like home aren’t enough to stay in a relationship that’s doomed from the start, and that I’m actually sparing us both greater pain down the line by smooshing our hearts to juicy berry stains on the floor now.
I tell myself a lot of shit, but none of it makes me feel any better.
I arrive at Lauren’s room with my stomach still full of lead, doom heavy around my shoulders, and the certainty that I’m never going to find love or anything close to it ever again. But that’s okay. Lauren’s sad, too, and you know what they say about misery loving company.
I knock softly on the door, not wanting to wake the kids.
They must still be sleeping. It’s way too quiet in there for the little rascals to be awake.
I wait a beat and then knock a second time, but there’s still no answer and no sound from within except the faint rush of what sounds like running water. Deciding Lauren must be in the shower, I fish the keycard the front desk gave me from my pocket and press it to the sensor, grateful my name was still on the room.
As long as I warn Lauren that I’m here before she comes out of the bathroom, she shouldn’t be too upset about me invading her privacy. She wasn’t supposed to have privacy, anyway. I was always supposed to be in that second bed, even the nights Chuck was planning to stay, which is kind of weird now that I think about it.
Why would my parents put me in the same room with a married couple? Even if it was for only two out of seven nights? I mean, I get that they probably haven’t had sex in twenty years—the thought of my parents doing anything that vulnerable and fun with each other is jarring (not to mention gross)—but other people do enjoy banging on vacation.
The thought is still swimming around in my head when I open the door to find that Chuck has returned and is now lying in the middle of the bed on the far side of the room. He also apparently had time to change out of his clothes and into what looks like an adult-sized cloth diaper with a safety-pin the size of my forearm holding it closed at the front.
Meanwhile, my sister is in a skintight nurse’s uniform, pulling on yellow rubber gloves for reasons I can’t bring myself to imagine.
My jaw drops and a startled squawking sound emerges from my soul. Lauren’s and Chuck’s heads both whip my way, and their eyes widen in that “Oh, shit, we’ve been caught” way that only perverts who like to role play as nurses and babies can ever fully understand.