Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“Shit,” I sucked in a sharp breath and muttered to myself, “If those are all for today, we’re gonna be in trouble.”
But when I picked them up, the words on the paper were all wrong.
I thumbed through the stack of papers, taking a moment to realize that none of them were actually orders for flowers. It was an actual, legit fax.
Who even sent a real-life fax these days? I couldn’t even remember a time when that had actually been a thing.
My curiosity piqued, I flipped back to skim the cover page.
Brady,
I know we agreed on forty-eight hours, but I thought it might be helpful to see the kinds of terms we had in mind. It’s all subject to change, of course, depending on your needs. We just want to finalize this sale as quickly as possible and start implementing some of our ideas at the store. This is gonna be a great deal for everyone involved, and I can’t wait to make it happen!
I’ll be in touch tomorrow.
Mike
Wait, what?
My stomach clenched and I blinked hard, trying to focus on the words in front of me as I did my best to drown out the ringing that had started in my ears. No. Just… no. I skimmed it again, just to make sure I’d actually read what I thought I had.
I know we agreed… terms we had in mind… depending on your needs… finalize this sale… make it happen!
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
We’d just had a weekend together that had felt so real, so right, so much like forever… and the entire time, Brady had been planning on selling the shop? Had been in negotiations? While we’d been fucking?
At least I didn’t have to wonder about the status of the shop anymore—or my status with Brady, for that matter. The papers in my hands made both of those things perfectly clear.
I reached out to steady myself on the counter. I was feeling dizzy, like my entire world had flipped upside down.
It just didn’t make sense after what I’d thought I felt from Brady. What I felt for Brady. Nothing made sense.
I needed answers, though, and I needed them right that minute. Whatever Brady was doing in that office would have to wait.
I seethed as I realized he had probably wanted the privacy so he could work on the sale with me sitting just a few feet away, right outside the door.
Fuck that.
Fuck. That.
I crossed back over to the door and had my hand on the doorknob before I’d even realized I was moving. I didn’t hesitate.
I was just too upset, too hurt, too damn mad to worry about Brady’s privacy or any sense of professionalism that should have existed between the two of us. If the papers in my hand were accurate, then everything I’d thought was growing between me and Brady was a lie.
I couldn’t trust my own judgment when it came to men, not even when it had felt so real.
I swiped at my eyes. I needed to hear it from Brady’s mouth, though. I wanted to look into his eyes when I asked him why.
“What is this?”
The flimsy sheets scattered a little as I flung them across the desk. Brady both recoiled and scrambled to catch the mass of papers as they came at him.
“I don’t know, Jo. What is it?” He had been holding the phone in his hand when I burst in, but he hung it up with a frown as I loomed over him. “I asked you for some time this morning to—wait, what is this?”
He was looking at the cover letter of the fax, and the color drained from his face as his eyes flicked from the words on the page back up to my face.
“That’s what I’m asking you, Brady,” I said, the sick feeling in my stomach rising up so fast that it almost choked me. I stabbed at the fax paper with a finger. “What is that? You’re selling the shop? That’s what it says, right? After we—”
I snapped my mouth closed before I could expose myself to more pain. Clearly, whatever I’d thought I meant to Brady, I’d been wrong.
Several long seconds passed before he looked back up at me, and even then, he slowly inhaled and exhaled several times before answering.
“It’s… yes. It’s sort of what this is, but it’s not how it seems, Jo. It’s—”
“Not how it seems?” I cut him off, my heart still reeling from the yes. Or maybe “breaking” was more accurate. “But you are selling? Because that’s exactly what it seems like to me.”
Brady’s face had gone from pale to ashen. “I haven’t made up my mind yet,” he said.
His voice was too shaky, too strained. The quiet confidence that I had grown accustomed to was gone completely. The man in front of me looked unprepared and defenseless. Caught.