Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“No…not anymore.” I shrugged, blasé as all get out even though I didn’t feel blasé in the least. What I felt was a heaping portion of disappointment. I’d get over it, though, just like I got over everything else. “You’re not used to being inconvenienced. I get it. It was asking too much to hope you’d changed––”
“I have changed…look, Syd––”
I almost snorted. God help me, I was close. Moreover, he sounded genuinely offended which aggravated me further. “Growing a beard and shedding a few pounds does not constitute character growth, Scott,” I cut him off before more BS could spill out of his mouth. “But whatever. It’s fine. You do you.”
The car pulled up to the New York Public Library, Patience and Fortitude (something I lacked at the moment), the two lion statues, watching over it. A long string of limos and Town cars filed in behind ours. Not waiting for the driver to come around, Scott jumped out first and offered me a hand. Then he threw his arm around my neck and tucked me as close as two people could be while fully clothed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I tried to nail him in the ribs with an elbow, but the snake adroitly grasped and pinned my arm between us.
“Acting like a man in love, Sunshine.”
“Save the pet names for your women.”
His mouth dipped close to my ear, the brush of his lips making my pulse race. “I don’t have women. I have one woman––an angry little wife. And this one’s just for you. Now be a good girl. We have a show to put on.”
Scott
My wife hated me. Which was a real bummer because I was starting to really like her. Leaning against a column, hiding away from critical stares of my parents’ friends and business acquaintances, I nursed my whiskey.
Across the room, Sydney was talking to Devyn and my brother-in-law, John, who had flown in from California for this godforsaken dog and pony act. The booze was top shelf, the food was five-star rated, and the flower arrangements ostentatious––rare out-of-season blooms pouring out of every available crack and crevice. This party had my father’s fingerprints all over it.
Speaking of the man, he was seated at a main table up front with a bunch of his cronies congregated around him. He looked a little worse for wear, which worried me, but I dared not bring up the subject. Dad detested any sign of weakness and would deny anything was wrong anyway.
I watched Damon Hastings approach Sydney and pull her aside. I didn’t like the way Hastings was looking at her. Like Sydney was chum and he smelled blood in the water. If he so much as moved a hair follicle closer to her, I was going to get up close and personal with the son of a bitch and make it clear he needed to go hunt in different waters.
“Hiding?” a voice called out from somewhere behind me, one that had the magic power to make my nuts crawl back into my body. I’d succeeded in avoiding any unpleasantness from my past all night. Unfortunately, it had finally caught up to me.
Meghan looking almost exactly the same as she did the last time I’d seen her eight years ago. Her long chestnut hair swept to the side and draped over her shoulder. Her dark eyes smokey. Her pupils as big as nickels. Yeah, exactly the same.
“What are you doing here?”
“Your sister and my husband went to business school together. They’re friends.” She sipped her champagne.
“Consider yourself disinvited to any future Blackstone events.”
“Eight years and you’re still a prick.”
I turned to face her because I didn’t need anyone to overhear what I needed to say to her. “What do you want, Meghan?”
“I want you to stop blaming me.”
“Why wouldn’t I blame you? What you did––” My words fell away when I noticed my voice getting louder. Shaking my head, I turned back around and swallowed the urge to verbally eviscerate her. I wouldn’t be goaded into making a scene that would embarrass Sydney.
After all these years, the anger and resentment was still there. This city did that to me: brought them up, opened old wounds and made them feel fresh again. I hated Manhattan. It reeked of dissipation to me, reminded me of all the promises I’d broken and bad choices I’d made. Of my past, of the man I was, the man I wanted to forget I’d been.
Sydney stood in the middle of the crowded room watching us with a frosty expression, Hastings still by her side. I’d left her alone tonight, and maybe I shouldn’t have. I still owed her an apology. She’d shut me down in the car and I didn’t push it, didn’t want to upset her right before the party, but it still had to be done.