Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 99012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
I was having fun until the photos abruptly stopped only halfway through the album. A hollow ache formed in my chest as I realized why. There was no one to take the pictures anymore. No one to pay for them to be printed. No one to care if Bella even came home at night. I turned back to look at the last picture of a young teenage girl. Bella was probably in early high school. Just like most of the other pictures, she wore a bright smile to match her bright eyes. It made me feel a little sick to think she’d had no idea what was coming.
Since the photos had left me feeling uneasy, I thought seeing pictures of her and her mother might bring Bella down, too. So I got up to put the album back on the shelf before she finished in the bathroom. As I did, a newspaper clipping slipped out. It must’ve been tucked in the back or folded into one of the blank pages somewhere. I picked it up and read the headline.
Woman, 34, killed by hit-and-run driver outside Bruins Stadium.
And I thought I’d felt like shit because the pictures stopped…
The blow dryer was still running, so I let curiosity get the best of me.
Police in East Rutherford, New Jersey, are looking for a hit-and-run driver who fatally injured a thirty-four-year-old woman. According to Bergen County police, the woman was an employee of the New York Bruins and had been walking east on Tremont Avenue, approximately fifty yards from the west entrance to Bruins Stadium. She was struck by a westbound vehicle and pronounced dead at the scene. The accident occurred at approximately one o’clock in the morning, after the employee had completed her shift following the Bruins’ evening game. According to one witness, the car, which was described as a red, antique, collectible-type vehicle, possibly from the fifties, sped off and got away. Anyone with information is asked to contact the Bergen County Police Department at 201-557-9999.
Wow. Bella had said her mother died, but I hadn’t realized it was a hit and run. I’d still been living in Indiana, finishing my senior year at Notre Dame at that time. Guess it hadn’t made national news, or I was too wrapped up in myself to pay attention. But damn… Bella didn’t even have a face to hold accountable for her loss. That had to make it worse. The sound of the blow dryer stopped, so I tucked the newspaper article back into the album and returned it to the shelf before going back to the couch.
Bella came out wrapped in a towel a few minutes later. She looked around. “I thought you were going to look at my old photo album?”
“Started playing a game on my phone and got sucked in,” I lied.
“Well, that saves me some embarrassment.” She picked up a jar of moisturizer on her nightstand and headed back to the bathroom. “I need about fifteen minutes to do my makeup and get dressed.”
“Sounds good.”
Twenty minutes later, Bella emerged in an emerald green slip-type dress that draped a bit at her cleavage and a pair of silver strappy sandals. It was simple, but damn, she looked phenomenal.
“What type of a place is the party at?” She looked down at her outfit. “I’m not sure what to wear. Am I overdressed?”
“You look gorgeous.” I stood. “But does that wrinkle easily?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never worn it before. Should I change?”
“Nah. We’ll just take it off.”
“Take it off?”
“When I try to fuck you in the car, and the plane, and probably the bathroom of the restaurant where the party is. You can’t look like that and expect me to keep my hands off of you for too long.”
She smiled. “I guess you like the dress?”
“I like the woman in it in anything. But you look amazing. Are you leaving the glasses on?”
“I was going to. You said you liked them.”
“I do.” I looked her up and down and shook my head. “You are most definitely getting fucked before we get there...”
CHAPTER 18
* * *
BELLA
“There’s my mom and my brother Tyler.” Christian started walking, but I didn’t. We’d arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes ago, though it had taken us that long to get inside since everyone had swarmed Christian to say hello. When he felt the resistance at our joined hands, he turned back. “What’s the matter?”
“Your mom is here?”
His forehead wrinkled. “Yeah. Why?”
“I…I guess I just didn’t think about your parents being here.”
“It’s only my mother. My father wouldn’t come to a thing like this.”
“But your mother is here.”
“Is it a problem?”
“No, except that I’m going to meet your mother.”
Christian’s lip twitched. “Yeah, that’s usually how it works. Two people are in the same room, sometimes they meet.”
“That’s not funny, Christian.”
“Considering that most of the color seems to be gone from your face, I take it meeting my mother makes you nervous?”