Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 131209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry! What more do you want me to say? Devon, you’re not here! Sometimes I look at you and you’re looking at me, but you’re not here. I don’t know what to do and Ethan… I just… I got scared. Sometimes you scare me.”
“We’re done. I can’t go back from this.”
She nodded. “I know.”
I sighed not being able to look at her. “You can keep the house, but I want shared custody of our son.”
“Okay,” she murmured, looking at the ground. “I never meant to hurt you, Devon, you are the nicest guy I have ever met. I’m so sorry. I hope one day we can be friends and you can forgive me.”
“Well, you have a shitty fucking way of showing it.”
“You need to take care of yourself. You know it as much as I do; your dreams are getting worse. It used to be a few nights a week and now you’re having them every night. It’s terrifying and—”
“I’m not talking to you about this.”
“Goddamn it! See! This is exactly what I’m talking about, Devon! You say that you love me, that you want a life with me, but you don’t care that I want to know what’s wrong. Devon, how many fucking times have you just lost it in front of Ethan? You go back somewhere in your mind and I can’t take you away from it. Neither one of us can.”
“I do care and I’m handling it,” I justified, lying.
“By what? Huh? By taking cold showers, after you have the dreams? By working more at the bar? By sleeping less? By making up for it with coddling Ethan, and ignoring me? Jesus, you look like a fucking zombie, because you’re too scared to close your eyes. It’s devouring you. You need help,” she argued.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re NOT! You’re so far from fucking fine. You can’t even see it anymore. Why, Devon? What happened in that house?”
“Nothing.”
“I know what I did was wrong, but what you’re doing right now, is wrong too. You can’t go through life like this. What kind of example are you showing Ethan? Huh? Do you know how many times you have woken him up, when he’s fallen asleep in our bed? When he’s fallen asleep in your arms? What’s going to happen now that I’m gone?”
“You should have thought of that, before you spread your legs to my bar-back,” I viscously spewed.
She didn’t falter. “You’re right. But that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you. I made a mistake and I will forever have to live with that. But our marriage, our relationship, was based on being lonely, Devon. You know it as much as I do. We may have loved each other, but we weren’t in love with each other. Sometimes I feel like you love Ysabelle, more than you love me.”
I rolled my eyes. “We’re not going back to this shit. She has nothing to do with this. I’ve known her for ten years, Christine; she’s like a sister to me. She doesn’t even live here. She lives in Turks and Caicos. I barely see her; she’s been gone for two years.”
Ysabelle owned a bar called Chances. I had flown up there to help her for a few months, to get it off the ground. She finally opened up to me. She told me about VIP and everything she had been doing. It was hard to hear. I wanted to share with her, so badly, what I went through. My memories, the nightmares, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the goddamn words.
So I just listened.
Sebastian had divorced his wife and went after her. He had come by my bar one afternoon, almost a year after she left. They were together and as far as I knew they were happy.
In love.
“Whatever… does she know? Huh? Does she know what goes on when you’re asleep? Have you let her in enough to help you?”
I didn’t have to reply; she already knew the answer.
She shook her head. “You know what… it doesn’t matter, you want to continue to live your life like this, Devon… then go right ahead. I can’t save you from yourself. A part of me, knows that you’re doing this to punish yourself. Something fucking happened and you’re paying the price for it.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Right… you keep telling yourself that.” She backed away from me, turning and slamming the front door behind her.
I grabbed the picture of our wedding day off the mantel, and threw it against the wall.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
<>B<>
A few months went by and my phone rang one afternoon, as I was leaving a client’s house.
“Hello, doll,” I answered.
“Hey,” Ysabelle replied.
“What’s up?”
“Well… I’m coming to Miami, we’re coming to Miami.”
I screamed from excitement. “When?”
“We leave Saturday afternoon and we’re staying a little over a week. Sebastian wants me to meet his family. He’s selling off his partnership of Yachting Enterprises,” she explained in a monotone voice.