Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
“I want to move on too.” That was the damn truth. I wanted all of this to be over, our past disappeared, but as Simon said, it wasn’t that easy. We’d been through things. We’d pretty much been through hell.
The rough part was that I could never explain this to Price in a way that would be okay with him. Even sitting here and talking to Simon this long...he would murder me for it, and probably stick me in the cage for hours afterward. He wouldn’t understand, perhaps could never be made to understand.
But did that mean I couldn’t help this man who’d been such a part of my life, who was here begging for a path to peace?
“Fuck,” I said. “This is really difficult.”
“I know. It took me forever to find the courage to come see you. But God, I’m taking all of this so seriously, Chere. I can’t go back there again. I can’t.”
“Can I have some time to think about it? Some time to talk to my partner?”
“Yeah, sure,” he said, even as I thought to myself that there was no way in hell I could talk to my partner. There was no way in hell Price would allow me to help Simon in any way, shape, or form.
No, I was asking for time so I could summon up my courage, and figure out if it was possible to elude Price’s control enough to give Simon the help and closure he needed. Was Simon’s sobriety worth it?
More to the point, could I stand by and let Simon ruin his life a second time? When I still carried such guilt that I’d let it happen the first time? Price said it wasn’t my fault, but I couldn’t make peace with that opinion. Maybe this was my chance to find some peace too, even if I felt like my head was about to explode.
“Can I come back tomorrow?” he pressed. “Will that be enough time for you to think about it?”
“No. Don’t come back here.”
“Then how can I contact you?” He frowned. “Jesus, you’re acting kind of crazy. This guy you’re with, is it the same dude who attacked me at that gallery?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the deal with that?” He looked at me far too steadily, with too much knowledge of my weaknesses. “Chere, have you gotten yourself into another bad situation with your hotheaded star-chitect friend?”
He had a lot of balls to ask that, considering he’d been my first and most monumental bad situation. Price was nothing like him. Was he?
“He’s not my friend,” I said. “We’re together. He gave me a ring and everything.”
Simon stared at it when I showed him. “You’re engaged?” He sounded shocked.
“Not officially engaged,” I admitted. “But we’re pretty serious, and brutal honesty here, he hates your guts. He’s not going to want me to see you. He doesn’t want me to have anything to do with you.”
“If he doesn’t like it, tell him to fuck off.”
I pondered telling Price to fuck off, especially as it related to Simon. The idea was too ludicrous for words.
“I want to help you get over our past together,” I said. “I can understand how it haunts you, but I’m not going to damage my current relationship in the process. Just give me some time to figure things out.”
His skeptical regard unsettled me. “I guess we all have problems. Maybe we can help each other. Do you need help with this guy?”
“No,” I snapped. “Do you still have the same number? Don’t call me. I’ll call you, okay?”
“When?”
I sighed. “When I can. Do you want to be friends or not? Friends are patient with each other.”
But Simon Baldwin had never been patient, or a very good friend, even before drugs took over his life. I finally got him out of my studio by telling him I had a deadline to meet. I breathed a sigh of relief that Price hadn’t come by for a morning blowjob. Most days, he waited until the afternoon.
God, I had to calm down. I needed to figure out how to help Simon attain mental peace without wrecking my own hard-fought sanity. I wasn’t sure there was a way to do it, which really sucked. Maybe I could just tell Price that I needed to help Simon find closure. Maybe he would understand if I explained it deftly enough.
No. Fuck. He’d never understand, and he’d never allow me to see Simon again. I was supposed to have zero contact with my ex. Zero. Never. Nothing.
I was definitely fucked.
Chapter Nine: So Fucking Sorry
I watched the whole thing happen in real time, watched it on a window on my laptop as a meeting continued around me. There was no audio on the surveillance feed, but I saw the intensity and duration of their conversation in high-definition detail. It seemed like they spoke forever, and there was real emotion, real connection in the way they conversed. She hadn’t seen Simon in months, not to my knowledge.