Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
It had not been an easy week. The first open conversation I’d ever had with Arlo hadn’t mended all my wounds. In fact, once I had time to think about it, I was pissed at him.
I was pissed at both my parents for providing me with a crappy emotional upbringing and for giving me all these hang-ups about trust, commitment, and relationships. I was even angrier that it turned out to be hypocritical bullshit.
Rafe didn’t call.
However, I heard his voice in my head all the same.
“You’re not afraid of letting me down. You are terrified of me letting you down like the assholes who raised you!”
Too smart for his own good.
Roger picked me up from the airport and I cried in my friend’s arms, finally letting the last few months of emotions out.
“You need to call Rafe,” Roger insisted. “You need to tell him you’ve changed your mind and you want to try something real with him.”
I shook my head. “It’s done. I’m done messing with his head.”
“You’re making a mistake,” my friend warned me.
I stared at him dully. “Then it’s my mistake to make.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The sounds of honking, engines, the grating drill of a jackhammer, conversation, and rock music blaring from the phone of the person waiting in line in front of me wouldn’t fade into the background as I tried to read a book. Early August in New York could be hot, and today was one of those days. It was humid, and the air was filled with the scent of traffic fumes and something unpleasant blowing up from the subway grate a few feet from me.
Gone was my glass-half-full attitude and it was all because of the freaking hollow ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away. I was sad. Lonely. And it didn’t seem as if those feelings were going away anytime soon. I’d returned to New York and fallen right back into routine, minus my job for Rafe.
I hadn’t seen or heard from him in two weeks, and I missed him and I was pissed that I missed him.
Unable to bear any connection to his world, I’d ignored Gigi’s texts. She’d finally stopped reaching out, which just made me feel like the worst human ever.
So there I was, my usually sunny disposition in the toilet. My hair stuck to my neck, my sundress to my skin, and my feet were covered in soot from the traffic from just standing there, waiting in line for free tickets to the opening launch of a new restaurant. Yeah, someone was paying me to wait for free tickets.
“I bet the food stinks,” I muttered to myself.
A woman passed me with a huge to-go cup of coffee in her hand and despite the heat, I eyed her enviously. My last coffee had been three hours ago, and I needed an energy boost.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I turned to find a young couple at my back. The line stretched out all the way down the sidewalk behind them. “Yeah?”
The guy leaned into me. “So . . . uh . . . what are we waiting for?”
I scowled. “You don’t know what you’re waiting in line for?”
They shook their heads.
Rolling my eyes, I turned back around. “Morons.”
“Did you just call someone a moron? How very un-Star-like.” My head whipped up to the side at the familiar voice.
And there he was.
Rafe.
What?
His denim-blue eyes shone as he squinted against the sunlight. I drank in every inch of him like the thirsty, thirsty woman I was. He wore a green T-shirt, dark blue jeans, and a crisp pair of navy Converse that appeared as if they’d never been worn. In his hands were two tall cups of coffee. He held one out to me. “Thought you might need a pick-me-up, and apparently if you’re calling people morons, I was right.”
Mouth hanging open in surprise and confusion, I took the coffee on autopilot as he stepped right up next to me, his arm brushing mine. “So, what are we waiting for?”
Rafe was here.
Waiting in line with me.
“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
His eyes searched my face as if committing every detail to memory. “Roger called me. And he told me where to find you.”
Betrayed by my best friend.
I narrowed my eyes and shook my fist as I hissed, “Roger.”
Rafe pivoted his body toward mine and spoke with laughter in his voice. “Did you just actually shake your fist like a cartoon character?”
“Maybe.” I took an angry sip of coffee and watched the way Rafe stared at me as if I were the most wonderful human who ever lived. It was messing with my head! “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you . . . like you like what you see.”
“I can’t help it. I do like what I see.” He shrugged casually. “So much so that when Roger called me, I kicked my ass for letting this sit between us for two weeks.” Rafe eyed me in all seriousness now. “I don’t want to give up on this. On you. I had to come here and try one last time to convince you to give us a chance. No strings, no casual sex. A real relationship. If you agree to this, it’s knowing that we’re in a monogamous relationship that we’re committed to making work. If you can’t do that, I have to walk away. For good. Because I can’t do casual with you. And before you decide, Roger told me about your unusually unsunny disposition these days. Think about every scowl you’ve worn in place of that beautiful smile, every person you’ve called a moron instead of seeing the best in said moron. You miss me. Like I miss you. If you think you’re in a bad mood, you can only imagine what I’ve been like. For the sake of Owen and everyone who has to deal with me on a daily basis, please think carefully before making your decision.”