Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Her angst started with my stupid belief that women require my friendship to know they can let go of their heartache and survive, but it ended with our mother’s inability to do precisely that.
“Sweetheart, what happened?” My mother fixes the collar of my suit, ensuring it sits right before locking her eyes with mine. “You know you need to be cautious with Casey. She’s not as confident as us. She’s not as strong.”
“Ma, stop. Casey isn’t your competition. She’s your daughter.” With one truth comes many. “And I’m your son. Your son. I’m not the person you’re supposed to rely on to fix your broken heart all the time. That’s your partner’s job, the man you’re meant to lean on in return for your affection. When something breaks, you’re supposed to give him a chance to fix it.” When she looks like she can’t believe the words I’m speaking, I hit her with gospel honesty. “I thought I was helping you and making you a better person.” I shake my head. “I made everything worse.”
“What are you talking about, sweetheart? You’re perfect.”
“No.” I pull her hands down and hold them at her sides. “Because if I were, I would have done this years ago.”
I smile at her to ensure she knows I will always love her before I join my father and sister at the back of the church and then lead our walk outside.
CHAPTER 17
Zane
Seven Days Later…
“You know I’m not twelve, right?” Casey asks between licks of her ice cream. “I would have gotten over my heartache of being ditched on Christmas Eve without ice cream.”
“Ice cream is the perfect opener for a conversation you don’t realize you need to have until…” I stop talking when it dawns on me that I’m using the lessons I learned from our mother on another unsuspecting victim. “It’s a nice night for a stroll, so I thought, what the hell, I deserve a treat.” I smile when I recall Kelsey saying something similar the night we met. It’s the first genuine smile I’ve given this week.
“It is.” Casey tilts in like the air is chilly. “I love this time of year. The twinkling lights and endless Santas on every corner. The excuse to gorge on calories isn’t bad either.” She peers up at me with her glistening eyes on full display. “Do you think she’ll keep her promise this time around?”
When she nudges her head half a block up, a heaviness I haven’t been able to shift for the past week no matter how hard I try to fix my wrongs intensifies.
“Probably not,” I answer, knowing a leopard can’t change its spots in a week even when striving like fuck to do exactly that. “But I hope he’s smart enough not to get hurt this time.”
Casey, our father, and I had just climbed into a taxi at the front of the church my mother was due to wed in when she raced out its double doors and begged to come with us.
Casey and I weren’t given the chance to speak. Our father cranked open his door and pulled my mother onto his lap before we could respond.
She’s used his lap as a seat several times since then.
I tried to talk to my father about his inability to let go. Then I realized it wasn’t my right to insert myself into anyone’s relationship, so I shut my mouth, soundlessly wished him well, and continued to work on bettering myself instead.
It’s only been a week, but I’ve made some drastic changes. I refunded the money I had received for my ‘friendships’ with the women I had duped. I also set up a foundation with my share of the profits from Casey's many restaurants and sound investment decisions I've made over the past decade to ensure even people not married know what they're entitled to in the event of separation.
I even penned apologies for my wayward thoughts to every Kelsey from LA to Florida.
I’ve had a handful of replies, but not from the Kelsey I’m seeking.
I don’t want her to forgive me. I just want her to know that I never meant any harm. I honestly thought I was helping women move on as I had my mother, but my week with Kelsey proved my clients would have done it on their own even if I hadn’t forged a way into their lives.
Kelsey initiated every step necessary to move on from her ex. I was merely a witness to her strength and determination.
Half a block later, Casey balks. When I glance down at her, unappreciative of the ribbing her sudden stop caused, she stares at me as if I have rocks in my head.
“What?” I ask, shocked by the surprise on her face.
“Did you not hear that?”
She doesn’t breathe while waiting for the noise I’m fighting like hell to ignore to occur again.