Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I wasn't sure why that bothered me.
I had always been somewhat unshakeable in my idea of my self-worth. Not because I was cocky, but because I knew what I was worth. I knew I worked hard. I knew I was smart. I knew I was loyal and dedicated and attentive.
And because I knew all that, I felt I deserved a good man. Because I thought I was a good woman.
It shouldn't have gotten to me that he hated me.
But it did.
It wiggled inside, making my heart feel low and heavy, making my stomach sink.
If someone who had shared my life with me for so long, who I had given all of myself to hated me so much... what did that have to say about what I had to bring to the table?
"Look at me," Kai's voice cut into my admittedly somber pity-party. "If he hated you, that was on him. Not you. You're amazing. Anyone who has met you knows that, thinks that. You can't be faulted for his terrible taste." He paused, watching me, reading me, and I knew what he was seeing. That I wasn't convinced. That I was about ready to use my own pride as a piñata, beat myself up, watching as little endless bits of insecurity fell out. "Don't be that girl," he demanded oddly, making my brows crease.
That girl.
Those were never good words.
I stiffened at the idea of him using them.
But this was Kai.
So he got the benefit of the doubt.
"What girl?" I asked, hearing the hesitation in my voice.
"The girl who takes some guy's damage and takes it on as her own. People have all kinds of reasons for being how they are. Maybe his mom used to beat his hands with a ruler if his bedroom wasn't clean enough, and your preference for neatness reminds him of that. Maybe his mom was a career woman who valued her work more than time with him. Maybe he sees your ambition as that cycle repeating. Or maybe he is just a heartless bastard who hates women, enjoys manipulating and hurting, and even killing them. Maybe that was a sickness he was born with. But whatever it is, it's his. It's not yours. Put it down.You weren't meant to carry it."
I felt stinging in my eyes, knew they would be swimming at any moment.
I wasn't a crier.
But Kai could do that, get to the heart of me. Why? I didn't know. I just knew it was true.
Drawing in a shaky breath, I leaned forward, my forehead pressing into his upper arm.
And I said them.
The words I felt down to my soul.
"I don't deserve to have you in my life."
"Stop," he demanded, voice soft, hand giving my shoulder a squeeze. "Don't say that. It's ridiculous. You're tired. And - whether you will admit it or not - hurt. Physically and emotionally. You need to rest. You'll be thinking - and feeling - better in the morning."
I didn't quite believe him, but pressed my lips together.
Because this wasn't some new development, this idea of Kai being too good.
It was something I had felt - known - for a long time.
Nothing I had done in life made me deserving of the kind of unwavering love he seemed to feel toward me.
It was - to be perfectly honest - intimidating. Overwhelming.
I wasn't sure I had any right claiming it.
It belonged to someone softer, sweeter, someone less rigid and ambitious, someone who knew how to relax and didn't run their entire life based off of lists and ideas of how things were supposed to go.
I mulled on that as Kai's breathing went deep and steady, as his body relaxed.
It wasn't for another twenty or so minutes after that that I lifted up my head, balancing on my forearm to look down at him.
My hand moved out without even being aware of it at first, reaching upward, sinking into the short strands of his hair.
I hadn't ever admitted it aloud, but it was a little secret inside my head.
I loved his hair.
Not so much like this.
But how he liked it, how he usually kept it.
Longer.
Framing his face.
Inky black and so soft looking that your fingers itched to sift between the silky strands.
I had this odd fetish of enjoying catching him tying it up. Or pulling it down.
Weird? Yes.
Because I never liked long hair.
I found it unflattering and stringy. It reminded me of dirty bikers or wannabe metal singers.
It just wasn't my cuppa.
But on Kai, I dunno, it always did it for me.
Seeing it cut had been shocking, a jolt to my system. The shorter cut showed off his rather strong jaw. It made him look older and more professional.
But that wasn't Kai.
And I missed that Kai.
The Kai before I did ugly things to him. Before I chose another man over him. Before I agreed to marry someone other than him, spend my life with someone other than him.