Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
When she’s done in the bathroom, she ignores me and walks to the kitchen. By the time I’m finished showering, she’s either sleeping or pretending. I lie beside her, my mind running a mile a minute as I try to stay on my side of the bed and process all of this for the hundredth time. The woman I love, who I’d give anything to have — who I gave up everything to find — is finally next to me, and she might as well be on another planet, with how far she feels. I turn on my side and face her. I can’t see her in the darkness, but I can make out the shape of her back since she’s facing away from me.
I can’t handle it anymore. My chest feels like it’s going to cave in. I just want to touch her, hold her, something, anything. If she wants to kick me out, I’ll leave. If she tells me not to put my hands on her, I won’t, but I need to try. I move to her side, put my arm around her, and pull her to my chest, the way I used to before she left. Before my life lost its meaning. Before I let my anger drive my actions. A sense of peace instantly rolls through me when I bury my face in the crook of her neck and inhale her scent. She smells so good. She feels so good, so perfect.
“I’m so sorry, Lyla James. I don’t even know what to apologize for first, but I’m sorry for all of it,” I say against her neck. “Please don’t stop caring.”
She inhales deeply and lets it out. She doesn’t say anything, but she lets me hold her, and that’s enough for now.
CHAPTER 37
LYLA
DELILAH-WHATEVERTHEFUCK YOU WANT TO CALL ME
We land in Chicago around ten. It’s a three-and-a-half-hour flight, all of which I spent curled up in my own little first-class cubby, trying to watch a movie that won a million awards. For what, I have no idea, unless they give awards for best snooze fest. I’m awoken by the skid of the tires as the plane touches down. The captain starts talking about our gate as I unfold myself and start to gather my things.
I switch my phone off airplane mode and text Marissa to let her know we landed. She texts back immediately with a string of emojis that I can’t concentrate on, right now. The airplane parks and people immediately do what they do, getting up and trying to get their bags so they can be the first ones out of the airplane. I have no connecting flights, and I’m scared of what awaits me outside the airport, so I’m not in a rush to get out. I take my time, putting away my headphones, grabbing my charger, and looking for the chapstick I accidentally dropped during the first five minutes of the flight.
That’s what I’m doing when Lachlan walks over and stands in the middle of the aisle to wait for me. We haven’t spoken since my tantrum at the restaurant, which I loathe myself for. I still can’t believe I did that. The only other time I’ve ever lost my cool like that was at Marissa’s party a million years ago. I swear he’s the only person who can make me this angry. I lose all reason around him. I look up and see people excusing themselves as they try to get past him, while he just stands there and stares at me like we’re in the middle of an open field. Even this frustrates me. I say nothing. I find my Chapstick and follow him out of the airplane. When we step out onto the loading bridge, our suitcases are waiting for us. These aren’t carry-on suitcases. They’re big ones that rode in the bottom of the plane and are now somehow up here while everyone else rushes to baggage claims. The employee smiles as he rolls them to Lach and smiles wider when he gets tipped for it. Lach rolls them both while I follow, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. It’s probably best I don’t know. The entire thing felt like a drug exchange. Knowing him, he would put me in the middle of a fucking drug cartel situation, as selfish as he is.
I truly feel like I’m going crazy. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep or all of the things that were thrown at me at once, but I can’t get my emotions in order. I let him hold me last night and let him apologize while I pretended to be asleep, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet. I’m too upset and still processing it. All of the spare glances I’ve caught from him have been wary, which is good. He’s right to be scared. He probably thinks I’m going to bail on him at the last minute. Honestly, if he thinks that, he doesn’t know me at all. We walk through the airport in silence. Since we already have our things, we head outside where a guy in a dark suit, who looks like he could kick anyone’s ass, is waiting for us. He looks scary, but his smile reaches his eyes as he shakes Lach’s hand. As he takes our bags, Ronnie introduces himself to me. When the doors open, the bitter wind hits me so hard that I take a step back and cross my arms. I checked the weather. It’s not even that cold, but the Chicago wind doesn’t seem to get the memo about the changing seasons. I remember the last time I visited with my parents, it was summer and still brisk at night.