Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Now, she hates me.
She hates me and all my worst fears are coming true.
“But I won’t do that to you.” Jess sits back, leaning against the scarred leather of the booth as she crosses her arms. “Because I’m not a dick or a liar. As long as you stay the hell away from me, we’ll chalk this up to a lesson learned. But if you ever try to mess with my life again, you’ll be sorry.”
“Jess, no, I wasn’t—”
“Save it,” she says, heat flaring in her gaze for the first time since I sat down. “You’re a liar. Everything you say is a lie. You lied about the job, about your role in the company, and just about everything else. The only thing I don’t think you were lying about is wanting to fuck me, which is ironic, because if you’d told me that you’d had a serious girlfriend before and weren’t a virgin, I wouldn’t have cared. It was the lying about it all that made it gross, Sam.” Her lip curls. “So, so gross.”
“I know and I’m sorry,” I say, one half of me struggling to figure out how she uncovered my secrets, while the other half insists it doesn’t matter. All that matters is making this better before I lose the most important person in my life. “I didn’t mean to lie about that part. I didn’t,” I insist when she rolls her eyes. “You assumed I was a virgin at your party, and I didn’t know how to counter the assumption without making things…awkward. I was absolutely intending to tell you later, but there never seemed to be a good time. But I was going to tell you tonight before things went any further between us. I swear to you, Jess, I was. I swear on my mother’s life.”
She shakes her head. “Does your mom know? Who you really are?”
Clenching my jaw, I nod. “Her, a few members of my board, and my financial advisor. That’s it. And now…you.” I want to reach out to her so badly my hands ache with it, but I force them to remain in my lap as I add, “And no, I wasn’t going to tell you that Paradisus is my company, but not for nefarious reasons. It was the exact opposite, Jess. I wanted you to be able to take the job without feeling beholden to me in any way. I lied so you could feel free and relaxed and empowered to take the job with no strings attached.”
“There’s nothing empowering about being lied to,” she says. “And I won’t be taking the job. I don’t need your charity or your lies or…you.” She slides out of the booth, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder as every organ in my body turns to miserable, putrefied liquid inside my core. “Have a nice life, Sam. And the next time you think manipulating people would be easier than acting like a grown-up and respecting another human’s free will, maybe take a second and rethink that. You may be rich as shit, but you’re not a god, and acting like one isn’t a good look on you. Or anyone else.”
She brushes past me, sending the scent of coconut lotion and shampoo and Jess wafting into my face. On instinct, I pull in a deeper breath and hold it, willing my mind to lock down the memory of the smell of her just in case I can’t make this right and this really is the end.
Then I gather the papers into a pile, pull out my phone, and start doing my own research. But I’m not looking for dirt on Jess; I’m looking for evidence.
Evidence that we belong together.
Evidence that though I’m flawed and go about things all wrong at times, that I love her, and I can make this better if she’ll give me a chance.
Please, give me a chance, I chant silently as I go deep, searching the furthest corners of the web for proof that she will always come first for me, proof that if she gives me another chance at her heart, I won’t screw up again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jess
“I understand that you hated doing laundry in the basement, but your reaction to this appliance might be a bit…extreme.” Harlow stands in the entrance to the kitchen with her bags still looped over her shoulder, staring down at me with a worried expression. She motions to the half gallon of ice-cream cradled between my crossed legs. “And eating that straight from the carton doesn’t seem like a good sign. Am I missing something here?”
“They broke up,” Evie offers softly, leaning in to meet Harlow’s gaze through the archway above the sink.
“We didn’t break up,” I say, my voice thick with the tears that have been flowing steadily for the past two hours. It’s like all the tears I refused to cry as a kid and young adult are streaming out of my stupid eye holes at once, making me feel out of control, miserable, and bad. So, so bad. “We were never together,” I sob. “He was a lie, and you can’t have a lie as a boyfriend. Lies don’t have legs. Or souls. Or hearts.”