Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“How can you minimize this?” I ask, astounded.
“Maybe because it was never a big deal,” she snarls, keeping her voice low. “I had a small child and a husband who didn’t seem to care I had a disease. I drove myself, with Hope in tow no less, for chemo for four months. I had a family back home I didn’t want to worry, so I didn’t let them know I was doing it all on my own. I went through it with only Hope for comfort, so maybe you might understand a little why I don’t share. It’s something I’ve had to minimize in my mind so I could get through it.”
She’s breathing hard, her eyes flaming with anger and righteous indignation.
“Christ, you married a douche,” is all I can think to say as I step back from her and scrub my fingers through my hair in agitation.
“Agreed,” she clips out. “But I can’t seem to figure out why you’re mad at me about this?”
I shake my head, disgruntled and off kilter. “I’m not.”
“You clearly are,” she retorts.
“You should have told me.” It’s the only thing I can seem to pinpoint right now as the source of my fury. “You kept it secret.”
“Again,” she says with a hefty dose of sarcasm. “I was just a fuck to you for most of our time together. Why would I share?”
“You were not just a fuck, and you goddamn well know it,” I growl.
“Do I?” she asks, and I can hear the near hysteria in her voice. She’s really worked up, and I’m just… feeling betrayed.
Because Michelle betrayed me by not letting me know what was going on with her. She held something so deep and secretive she never gave me the opportunity to help her. She denied me my right to worry, and she demeaned my right as a husband to try to save her.
It appears to my psyche that Hannah is no different. She certainly had no problems handling the cancer on her own.
She’s a secret keeper, too.
She doesn’t need me or anyone it seems.
“Look,” I say, the lack of strength in my voice showing I’m exhausted of this conversation. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to head out. I can come back tomorrow and help finish up.”
“No, that’s okay,” Hannah says, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her chin. “I can manage on my own.”
“You’re good at that apparently,” I can’t help but remind her. I soften the sting of my words by leaning in and kissing her on the cheek. “Call me tomorrow if you want me to come help some more.”
“Sure,” she says, sounding as equally defeated as I am right now. She pats me on the chest before stepping back.
I let myself out. I don’t look back at Hannah to see if she’s watching me, but I think I can feel the weight of her stare.
It’s accusing, and I feel wretched about it all.
But in the end, the only thing I can take with me as I make my way down the stairs to the parking lot is that Hannah confirmed a long-held belief of mine since Michelle died.
People can never truly know someone because it’s dependent on that person to actually give the truth. And most people never do—at least not all of it.
CHAPTER 26
Hannah
Desperation doesn’t look good on me, and I know this. Yet, I find myself wanting to pathetically claw at Asher, because he’s definitely slipping away.
It’s been four days since I’ve seen him. As I walk out of the offices of Knight Investment Group, which is in the Symphony District of Las Vegas, I can’t help the sense of foreboding that washes through me.
Asher was upset when he left my apartment Saturday night. While he offered to come back on Sunday to help with unpacking, his offer was lukewarm. I didn’t ask him to come, and he was silent all day. It was lame, but I was waiting—hoping—he would just show up and everything would be okay.
Monday, I started my new job with his company. It’s all right. I mean, I’m being paid a ridiculous amount of money to sit in a secretarial pool, but right now, it’s the only choice I’ve got to pay the bills.
I’m not sure what I expected when it came to working for Asher’s company. I’d realized it wouldn’t be directly for him, or even remotely near him. As it turns out, his office is on the top floor of the three-story building he occupies, and I’m on the bottom. I haven’t “bumped” into him once, but I haven’t been trying either.
Sad to say, during the last three days, I’ve constantly poked my head over the cubicle I sat in, hoping to see him striding through the secretarial pool, intent on finding me.
Never happened.
It didn’t mean things were radio silent. He texted me on Monday evening, said he’d gotten caught up in work, and wanted to know if I had gotten settled in at the new apartment. I texted back I had and thanked him for checking.