Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
The smile I manage is halfhearted. “You bet.”
“Is something wrong with you and Ella?” Bishop asks, motioning to a passing waitress for another beer by holding up his empty.
She stops at our table. “Anyone else want another?”
Tacker and I both nod.
When she leaves, I purposely don’t answer Bishop’s question, but he won’t let it go. “Again, I repeat, is anything wrong with you and Ella?”
I raise an eyebrow, being purposely obtuse. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I know what it’s like when things go to shit in a relationship, and I can recognize it,” Bishop replies smoothly. “So spill it, dude. What’s the problem because, last I could tell, things were going good with you and Ella?”
“They were,” I admit a little too glumly, which means I’m not committed to telling these two guys that my marriage is in the pits again. If I say it out loud, it must be true.
But my eye catches on something across the room, and I stare in shock at Ella winding her way through tables. Her eyes are pinned on me, and she’s walking like a woman on a mission.
Inherently, I know nothing good is going to come of this. I straighten on my stool, bracing for the bad news.
Bishop and Tacker notice my attention, and both turn to see Ella.
“Uh-oh,” Tacker mutters sympathetically.
Ella reaches the table and despite the churning within me, I still have to take that one moment I always do when I first see her to appreciate how beautiful she is. She has on a pair of skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder shirt. Her hair is up in a messy knot on top of her head, and her face is devoid of makeup. Not sure if anyone else notices, but there are red rings under her eyes, which tells me she’s been crying. I resist the urge to hop off the stool and pull her into my arms, especially since, at this point, I’m not sure if I’d get a return hug or a knee to the nuts.
Ella inclines her head at Bishop and Tacker, giving a curt. “Hi, guys. Sorry to intrude.”
“No problem,” Bishop replies easily.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, causing her attention to swing my way. Might as well just cut to the chase.
“Stalking you, of course,” she replies in a flat tone. “It cuts both ways, right?”
I can’t decide if she’s mad I once stalked her on a date with David, or if she’s being funny, but there doesn’t seem to be any humor in her eyes.
“Why?” I press. If she’s going to give me bad news, she just needs to get the fuck on with it.
Her eyes flash with ire, hands going to her hips, and she practically snarls. “Because I’ve been sitting on your front porch for two hours, and my ass is hurting. I got tired of waiting for you to come home, so I stalked you here.”
“And, that’s our cue to go,” Tacker says, starting to rise from his stool.
Ella whips toward him. “Don’t. You guys stay. Jim is coming with me.”
“I am?” I query, just to be a smart ass.
Her eyes snap to mine, she growls, and I pop up off the stool. She faces Bishop and Tacker once more. “My apologies for stealing him away. If you don’t mind covering his bill, we’ll catch you next time.”
“Got it covered, Ella,” Bishop assures her. By his grin—and a matching one by Tacker—I can tell they are highly amused.
Makes me want to punch both because this is my future here—or lack thereof—and they don’t seem to understand the potential peril I’m facing.
Nice friends.
Ella’s hand shoots out to grab mine. With a hard yank, I’m coming off the stool, barely managing to nab my phone. At that moment, the waitress returns with our beers, and I give mine a last longing look because I’m thinking getting drunk might be preferable to following Ella out of here for a talk.
Ella leads the way, and I follow like a petulant child who just got busted for being somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. I can feel the anger vibrating off her, and I start to rev myself up for another fight. She might think she’s in control, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to take something I don’t deserve.
Once outside the restaurant, I expect her to lead us to her car or mine. Instead, she moves around the side of the building—practically near the back—where it’s shadowed and free of any people.
Ella releases my hand and opens her mouth. I stiffen for the rant, but then she snaps it shut again. She seems unsure of herself now, eyes roaming around the parking lot, looking anywhere but at me.
“Ella,” I clip out to get her attention. “What are you doing here?”
She jolts, eyes slamming into mine. I watch as she inhales deeply through her nose and lets it out her mouth. “You see, there are times in our life where we sometimes fall prey to extreme emotion. It can cause past feelings to well up. Judgments can be clouded. That’s not to say those emotions aren’t legitimate, but—”