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)
I sighed. I hadn’t told her about the fight with Brady—hadn’t even hinted at it. I just didn’t have it in me to talk about it with her yet… and I especially didn’t have it in me to talk about it with Brady.
“Tell him to go away,” I said, flatly. “Tell him I’m sick. Tell him I’m dead.”
I tried to close the door again, but my mother wasn’t having it. She wedged her foot between the door and the frame, then pushed it open wider, furrowing her brow.
“Joanne Massey, sick or not, you need to get out here this minute. Brady is your friend. And your boss. You can’t just ignore him.”
I rolled my eyes and flopped back down on my bed, wondering briefly if a person could strain an eye muscle from rolling them too much. Or a… tendon, or whatever. I was definitely at risk of eye-whatever-strain, though, and—not surprisingly—my mother hadn’t budged.
Not helping.
“He’s not my fr—” I couldn’t get the last word out past the lump in my throat.
I swallowed hard and tried to keep my voice from shaking as fresh tears welled up in my eyes. Though how I had any tears left to cry, I didn’t know. “He’s not my boss. I quit my job, Mom.”
Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, but I held up my hands in a mock surrender. “And I don’t wanna talk about it right now. I can’t. So just… make him leave, okay? Please?”
Shockingly, she didn’t say a word. Didn’t even look like she wanted to object or argue. She simply spun on her heel and walked away, and that was good enough for me.
I put my earbuds back in, rolled back over and closed my eyes, ready for another round of Adele, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Brady was standing at the front door—just in the other room. And even though he was the last person I wanted to see, he was still somehow the only person I wanted.
Another knock on my door set my teeth on edge and made every muscle in my body tense up. I should have known she wouldn’t give up that easily.
I will not yell. I will not yell. I will not yell.
I inhaled slowly, then exhaled as I counted to three… then counted to three again. When I finally felt composed enough to speak, I surprised myself at how calm I sounded.
“Is he gone yet? I just want to sleep.”
I plucked an earbud from my ear and waited for a response, staring blindly at the wall in front of me. And waited.
And waited.
I heard my door open, and footsteps fall on the floor behind me.
Ugh, seriously?
“Just yes or no will work, Mom, honestly.”
“No, sorry—” Brady’s deep voice was so low that I could feel it rumble next to me as I scrambled to turn over and stand up all at once. “—I’m still here.”
And there he was, looking sad and sheepish and sexy as hell, just a few inches away.
I was too surprised—too shocked—to think, but even through the confusion and the lingering anger, I could already feel something else bubbling up, a feeling of hope—a joy that I couldn’t suppress.
I knew better than to trust those feelings, though. Not this time. Not again.
“Brady, what the—” I blinked, then my eyes narrowed. “How did you—oh my God. I’m gonna kill her.”
“Jo, wait. Please. Don’t be mad at your mom. I begged her.”
I doubted Brady had needed to do much begging to get in the house, but as I looked at him—looking back at me with eyes full of humility and sincerity—I believed that he would have begged, if it had come to that.
“And I bribed her with flowers. And then I brought more. For you.”
I glanced down at the bouquet in his hands, noticing it for the first time.
Orchids.
Just like the ones he’d brought the night of our first date, except these weren’t purple. They were white.
The color of peace. Of serenity.
Of fresh starts and new beginnings.
“You… brought me flowers?” I frowned as I took the carefully wrapped bundle, inspecting it in spite of my feelings. Then a thought occurred to me. “You made this arrangement?”
Brady nodded.
“By yourself?”
“Not too bad, huh?”
I nodded, then shrugged, deciding to stay noncommittal.
It was more than good. It was beautiful, and the choice of flower had made my throat close up with emotion, but I wasn’t ready to shower him with compliments. I still wasn’t sure why Brady was even standing in front of me, offering me flowers in my bedroom.
Then it all came rushing back. Not only the feelings, but the reason behind the feelings.
I set the flowers on my nightstand carefully, then turned to face Brady again. The earlier feeling of joy was pushed aside, the recently familiar tightness of anger and uncertainty taking its place.