Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Each and every single time I close my eyes, I see her. Long blond hair (of course). Fake eyelashes. Slim. Tight dress despite the baby bump. Tight, smooth skin. Red nails, red lips.
A vamp.
Looks nothing what you’d imagine a lawyer to be and everything you’d expect of the star of a reality real estate television show in Los Angeles.
Glossy.
Bitchy.
Expensive.
To be honest, I’ve never seen a woman like Laura in person, up close, in such a casual environment all dolled up. It couldn’t have been more obvious that she wasn’t expecting Eli to have had company, based on the disapproving looks she threw my way.
Get the hell out of here, her eyes told me. I don’t want you here.
At the time, I wasn’t interested in a confrontation. I felt it wasn’t my place to stand between Eli and “Laura who he dated since college.” But looking back—thinking about the course of the evening—I regret it.
I regret leaving him out to dry.
Leaving him there as her hostage.
“Jesus Christ, Laura, what are you doing here?”
Eli couldn’t have been more surprised when he’d looked up and seen her standing there, stance wide—like a coach on the sidelines of a football field, watching us.
Looking down at us.
She’d held up her hand, a key ring dangling from her index finger, long lacquered nails like daggers.
“I have a key.” She jingles it again. “I see you have company.” Her head tilts to the side as she’d studied me. “Are you the same woman he was at the awards banquet with?”
She’d seen us? Interesting that she’d given no indication that she’d seen us.
“Why are you here?”
Laura had ignored him, plunking the house key on the counter. “You probably want these back. For her.”
For her.
She was talking about me as if I wasn’t sitting there.
“I’m here because I have something to tell you.”
“You couldn’t have called my office and set up a meeting?”
Laura laughed. “Are you still upset about the Keith thing?”
“What do you want?”
“What do I want?” she repeats, almost as if to herself. “I guess the better question is what do I need.”
“And what is it you need?”
“I need you to do a DNA test so we can determine the paternity.” Her hands cradle her bump the way expectant mothers often do. Maternal.
Protective.
The whole thing was too much—TOO MUCH—this woman and this situation. Like a bad romantic comedy—one without a happy ending that leaves the audience going what the fuck just happened?
I had to get the hell out of there.
I didn’t want to know how it ended except…I did.
I had to know.
I was fooling myself if I thought I didn’t care about Eli, and I was fooling myself when I told him I just wanted to be friends.
Why wasn’t he calling me?
Why wasn’t he texting me?
Why was he giving me the space I said I needed? Doesn’t he know that I hadn’t meant it?
The tears have been coming for days. Too many of them to count. My eyes and heart are sore beyond belief.
I’ve become a cliché, the girl who pushes the man away, despite the circumstances being less than ideal. Who cries in the shower, regretting her choice but knowing it was the right one. Cries because she feels like her one shot at true happiness was crippled by someone’s past.
Love.
Ha.
It was too soon for that anyway…
Or was it?
I’m startled by the knock on my bedroom door, interrupting my thoughts.
“Molly? You alright?”
“Yeah.” I wipe the tears from my cheek. “You can come in if you want.”
I want to be alone, but I also don’t. I’ve spent the past twenty-four hours miserable, wanting to hide. So if Posey wants to tolerate my company for a few minutes and attempt to cheer me up, I’d be glad for it.
Slowly, the door cracks open, and my roommate enters, carrying a small tray with a steaming mug on it and a plate of my favorite tea biscuits.
Almond shortbread.
Vanilla chai.
The sight of them makes me tear up all over again. “Posey, you didn’t have to bring me anything.”
“Well.” She sets the tray down on the bed and then follows, sitting on the other side. “You haven’t really eaten anything—unless you’re sneaking into the kitchen in the middle of the night and not telling me about it.”
She’s right. I haven’t been eating.
“What’s got you so upset?”
Everything.
The whole mess has got me so upset.
I take the mug off the tray and bring it to my lips to avoid having to reply.
Sipping slowly so I don’t burn my tongue, I close my eyes and inhale the sweet smell of calming vanilla.
“I hate to be the one to point this out to you, but…it’s almost as if you’re lovesick.”
She hates to be the one to point it out?
What a liar. Posey’s favorite thing to do is talk about love, romance, and romance novels.
“I can’t be lovesick,” I croak out pathetically, unable to look her in the eye. “I wasn’t in love with Eli. He’s just my friend.”