Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
She sank back in her seat, crossed her arms over her chest, and couldn’t have looked more victorious if she’d tried. “I was never actually going to go out with him, you should know. You just needed a little nudge. Because sometimes people don’t know what they have until it’s gone.”
“Your mother’s right,” he said. “I wasn’t sure about my future until I saw one without her, and then I was damn sure she was my future.” He tilted his head as he evaluated me. “You’re not sure how you feel about this girl, and I understand that. But you sent her packing because you got scared, and you probably haven’t thought about the fact that she’s going to move on. You feel good about that?”
No, of course I didn’t feel good about it.
I fucking hated it.
The idea of Charlotte with someone else turned my stomach and caused a cold sweat to break out on the back of my neck. This wasn’t jealousy. My mind wasn’t screaming that no one else could have her.
It was shouting at me about what a dumbass I’d been.
She couldn’t be with anyone else—she belonged with me, and I belonged with her.
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered.
“I told you,” my mother said triumphantly.
I was in love with Charlotte.
Of course I would figure this out days after I’d fucked everything up with her. “What the hell do I do?”
My dad peered at me like the answer was obvious. “You tell her.”
It wasn’t that simple. “She won’t talk to me.”
“Oh, well, in that case, I guess you should just give up.” His tone was plain. “I mean, you tried everything, right?”
That was . . . not helpful, but I stayed quiet because my mind began to work the problem.
My father’s teasing expression turned serious.
“I’ll tell you what to do—it’s the same thing I did.” He turned in his seat so he could glance back at my mother, and he sounded more genuine than I’d ever heard him. “If you love this girl, you do whatever the hell it takes to get her back.”
THIRTY-ONE
Charlotte
I sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, scrolling through Instagram, while my mother cooked dinner. She’d asked for my help, but it quickly became obvious she didn’t really want it. Her goal had been to get me out of my room, and to try to force an interaction with my father.
But it didn’t happen.
He was avoiding me just as much as I was him, and we hadn’t spoken since the night Noah had broken up with me. If my dad was expecting another apology from me, well, he’d have to wait forever.
Because I’d apologized enough, and now I was fucking done.
My gaze lifted from the phone screen so I could glare at the gorgeous flower arrangement that sat as a centerpiece on the kitchen island. It was vibrant pink roses and white lilies, nestled in greenery and arranged in a tall, clear vase.
It was the first time a guy had ever sent me flowers. It had been delivered this afternoon, bearing a card that said it was from Noah, and that he was sorry and to please call him.
I’d been halfway to the garbage toter in the garage when my mom stopped me. “Throw out the card if you want,” she had begged, “but these are too beautiful to go to waste.”
I stared at the flowers, hating how pretty they were and that I couldn’t like them on principle. Did he think this made up for what he’d done?
While she stirred the spaghetti boiling in a large pot on the stove, my mom tried to make small talk. I was polite, answering her questions, but I didn’t engage at all in conversation.
“It doesn’t seem like you need my help,” I said. “Can I go back to my room until dinner?”
She asked it quietly. “So you can go back to moping?”
Irritation brewed inside me, but I kept it in check. “You know, I’m allowed to be upset. I had my heart broken.”
“You’re right.” She stopped what she was doing, and her expression was pained, as if she were trapped between a rock and a hard place. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. Your father is too.”
That was rich, because he’d played no small part in it.
She set the wooden spoon down so she could give me her full attention. “Honey, you need to talk to him.”
Frustration raised my gaze to the ceiling. “I’m not apologizing again. I already did it a bunch of times.”
At this point, if anyone needed to apologize, it was him, but I didn’t say that to her. After I’d spent the night crying over Noah, my tears had dried, and I’d made a plan for myself. I’d do as my parents asked and follow their rules, but I’d be completely disengaged.
I’d finally realized that while their safety net protected me, it also held me back. How could I live my own life if I wasn’t independent from them? I’d watched my friends sometimes fail or struggle, and it had been fucking bewildering to me—