Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I rubbed my palms against my face, forcing the tears to stop. I wasted years of my life on someone who never even loved me in the first place. How could I have been so—
My phone buzzed next to me, jolting me out of my thoughts. For a second I was terrified it was Dennis, armed with more painful words about how I was the one being ridiculous.
But it wasn’t. It was Brad.
I’d never declined a call from my best friend, and I wasn’t about to do it just because one asshole ruined my day.
“I know you’re going to say no,” he said before I even said hello, and something about his voice slid over me like a warm blanket. He’d always been a constant in my life, a source of happiness when everything else was changing. “But the retreat is a week away—”
“Yes,” I blurted over him, sitting up straighter.
He’d been asking me for two weeks now to go with him to some corporate retreat hosted by a company he was trying to land. I’d said no, naturally, because I knew Dennis wouldn’t approve of it, especially since Brad wanted me to pretend to be his girlfriend the whole time so he could participate in all the couple events.
“You’ll do it?” Brad asked, elation coloring his tone. “Really?”
“Yes,” I said again, something settling inside me. “A vacation is exactly what I need right now.”
“You’re the best!” he said, then paused for a second. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying,” he countered. “I can hear it in your voice. What’s up?”
“I don’t want to get into it right now.”
“Fair,” he said, and I blew out a breath. God love this man. He never pushed me. “Tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Lunch. Lyla’s Place? We can talk.”
“Sounds good.”
He hesitated a few beats longer. “I can stay on the line with you,” he said. “If that’s what you need. Or I can come over.”
Tempting. It was so very tempting to have him or Zoe come over and let me cry and vent about the unfairness of it all, but right now, I just wanted to be alone. Plus, I was still wearing the most revealing lingerie I’d ever worn beneath my sweats, and Brad definitely didn’t need to see that. A flush raked my skin with just the thought, and I shook my head against my phone.
“Thanks,” I said, picking myself up off the floor. “I’m okay. I’m just going to take a shower and go to bed.”
“All right,” he said. “But if you change your mind I can be over there within ten minutes.”
A soft smile shaped my lips at his gesture. “I’m good,” I said before thanking him again and ending the call.
I wasn’t good.
Because while I was upset and angry, I felt…indifferent.
I felt more unhinged about the things I forgave or overlooked in the relationship than I did about Dennis cheating on me. I felt sad about trying so hard for someone who clearly didn’t think I was worth trying for. I felt ridiculous for begging for attention from someone who apparently didn’t respect me at all.
I wasted years of my life on him, constantly catering to his needs in the hopes that he’d find time to focus on mine.
Well, I was done trying.
I was free.
Getting out of town for a couple weeks sounded like the absolute perfect prescription to this mess. And who better to do that with than my best friend?
CHAPTER 2
Brad
“There she is,” I said, rising from the two-top table in the back of Lyla’s Place once I spotted Luna heading my way.
Fuck, she looked as gorgeous as ever in a pair of hunter green slacks and a white blouse that she no doubt made herself. Her long red hair hung over her shoulder in fiery waves, and her eyes were bright, but I could see a hint of purple beneath them like she hadn’t slept all night or worse, she’d been crying.
“Hey, Brad,” she said, her voice off in a way only someone with years of memorizing her tones would notice.
I wrapped her in a quick hug, frowning over the top of her head when she held on to me a little tighter and longer than normal. Reluctantly, I released her, and we settled at the table.
“What happened?” I asked the second she was seated.
She shook her head as she hung her bag over the back of the chair. “Am I that obvious?”
“Only to me,” I said, tension coiling in my gut.
“Hey, you two!” Anne said as she came up to our table. “What can I get you today?”
I smiled up at the newest friend to enter our circle—Anne VanDoren, the daughter of Harold VanDoren, a family friend who had tried really hard to set us up recently. Luckily for me, Anne was on the same page that we were better off as friends. Besides, the longest standing relationship—albeit friendship—I’d had with a woman was sitting across the table from me, ordering a lemonade and doing her best to hide whatever was bothering her from Anne.