Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I sat at a table alone, my coffee sitting in front of me even though I’d had enough caffeine for the day. It was the only time I missed my old apartment, so I could have somewhere to go alone. But now, I lived with Bastien, so he’d be there waiting for me when I walked inside, prepared to finish the conversation once I was ready to have it.
Would I ever be ready to have it?
How had this happened?
How had it happened so fast?
The divorce papers had just gone through, and now I was living a whole new life with someone else. I was back in a position I didn’t want to be in, not when I hadn’t had enough time to heal and let go of the past.
But I must be ready…if I was the first one to say it.
It’d been hours, and Bastien hadn’t tried to call or text. He gave me space, even though it must have been hard for him. It must have hurt him to watch me run away…again. Just when I thought about him, he texted me. I have stuff to do, so the house is yours. I’ll be home in the morning. He didn’t want me out in the city, sitting alone in cafés while I tried to juggle my feelings.
I texted him back right away. Please don’t go. I’ll head home now.
His three dots didn’t appear. I had no idea if he was mad or not. It was hard to tell through a text. Now that I had debit cards and credit cards with no limits, I paid for a cab when I normally would have walked. Having unlimited funds made life easier, saved me time, made everything more convenient.
When I returned home, the gate immediately opened for me as if the guards had been expecting me to show up. I took the elevator to the top floor, my heart dancing in my throat, and then I approached the double doors that led to the primary bedroom—the suite I shared with him.
I was scared, scared of something that had already happened, something that had already come true. I stared at the door handle made out of gold before I turned it and stepped inside.
Bastien was in one of the armchairs in the living room, shirtless and barefoot, his knees wide apart as he sat in his gray sweatpants. His elbow was propped on the armrest, his fingers against his temple, and he stared at me with an empty look.
He showed no anger. No resentment. Nothing at all.
I moved to the end of the couch, the spot closest to the armchair, feeling his stare follow me then burn into my cheek.
The fireplace was cold because it was a warm day, the sun coming through the open curtains. It was almost five now, so the sun would be going down soon. I focused on the fireplace because it was so hard to look at him.
“Sweetheart.”
I blinked once or twice before I found the strength to meet his stare head on. When my eyes locked on his piercing blue eyes, I felt a rush of adrenaline.
“You’re the one who said it—not me.”
“I know…”
“Several times.”
“Yeah…”
“I’ve taken it slow like I said I would. My foot was on the brake, but you stepped on the gas.”
“I get it, Bastien.”
“Then why am I being punished right now?” His tone turned clipped, the anger coming out.
“Punished?”
“You tell me you love me, and then you leave,” he said. “That’s called whiplash.”
I stared at the fire.
“Look at me.”
I sucked in a deep breath and met his look.
Now, he looked furious, his eyes hard and angry. “What is the problem, Fleur?”
“There is no problem.”
“Then why did you run?”
“I didn’t run. I just needed a moment.”
“To what?” he snapped. “You can tell your ex-husband you love me, but you don’t have the balls to say it to my face?”
I sucked in another breath. “He told you that?”
“Yeah, he fucking did,” he said. “You’ve said it three times—that I know of. But you act like this is brand-new information—”
“May I speak?” His anger had gotten the best of him, and he was running me into the ground.
A flash of anger moved over his eyes, but he gave a nod and conceded.
I tried to piece together my emotions, to build them into a story that would make sense. “I don’t know how long I’ve felt this way. Makes me wonder if I’ve always felt this way. Since the night we met. Since the first time I touched you…” I swallowed, struggling to hold his gaze because the anger was still visible. “I fought it for a long time, but then I fought it less, and that’s when it started to creep into my words and actions without my even realizing it. Because it’s just so inherently right that I knew it was true before I even admitted it.”