Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
I can understand where he’s coming from. My dad cheated, though he never left my mom and she never made what she would call “a fuss.” Sometimes I wish she had. “Where would it lead? Passion like this is amazing, but it’s also brittle. It breaks easily. It’s a storm that passes and ravages everything.”
“Or we could find a way to make it softer. Make it stronger,” he says, his words filled with warmth. “I think that’s what I’m figuring out. My ideas about love and sex are wrapped up in my childhood, and the truth of the matter is I wasn’t surrounded by good examples of love and friendship. I saw my father’s world, which was warped by his selfishness. I saw my mother leaving Jeremiah and I behind to find herself. So when I chose a woman as a companion I wanted one I didn’t feel too much for because I knew it wouldn’t last. My therapist told me if I’m open to it, one day I might find a woman I’m willing to risk heartache over. What if it’s you?”
The words…those words. I can’t handle them. My brain goes to all the worst places. He’s trying to control me. He’s using me. We’re not alike. I hold on to that one. I shake my head. “We’re too far apart.”
“How?”
How long do we have? “In every way. You’ve never had to worry about money.”
Even in the dim light I can see his eyes roll. “Of course I have. I assure you, you don’t know my whole story. But let’s address this part. I was a snob when I met you.”
This I can handle. “Yes, you couldn’t stand the thought of working with some blue-collar stiff.”
“No, I worried Anika was bringing in a friend who didn’t have a lot of experience in high-end renovations,” he corrects, and he’s so calm I can barely stand it because I’m not. “I certainly have zero issues working with blue-collar people. I work with construction crews and contractors all the time, and this will shock you, but they tend to like me. I did a whole series about helping people figure out how to renovate their homes on a budget. I don’t have a problem with the circumstances of your birth, but you have a real problem with mine. I can’t help I was born into a wealthy family, and honestly, while we’re at it, let’s talk about how many women your age own their own apartment and are the CEO of a family firm.”
He is deliberately misunderstanding me. “My apartment is eight hundred square feet, and I have to fight with the building constantly. You have an AI elevator and a view of Central Park. I have a view of the bodega across the street and regularly watch drug deals go down. We are not the same.”
He slides off the cot and does not seem to mind that he’s naked. “You have no idea how the same we are, but you don’t want to see it.”
I try not to look at how gorgeous this man is. “I am nothing like you.”
And that’s part of the problem. I’m not sure why he’s here unless it’s to use his gorgeousness and charm to get me to do what he wants. I’ve seen myself in the mirror.
You should find a man now, Harper. You’re not getting any younger. No man wants you for your wisdom, honey.
I don’t need to hear my mother in my head right now.
“You are everything like me.” He’s got a slight smile on his face as he moves into my space. “You are practically the female version of me except without my refined tastes. You are stubborn as hell. You tend to center things around your personal feelings but you tell yourself you’re thinking of others. You equate sacrifice with love instead of the martyrdom it actually is. Trust me. I know how that feels.”
I take a step back, not liking how he seems to see me. Or maybe it’s that he sees through me. “You’re a psychologist now?”
“No, I’ve just had an enormous amount of therapy. We can all use some, but especially when you come from highly toxic family situations,” he says quietly as though trying to handle me with care.
There he is. There’s the arrogant man who thinks he knows everything.
“I’m insane now. Are you seriously going there? I need therapy?” I don’t address the other thing. Because I’m nauseatingly certain he’s right. I’ve never thought of it that way before. Or he’s wrong and this is just how my mom is. She doesn’t mean anything by it. My dad cheating on her didn’t make her leave him, so I can’t accept that I won’t live that life.
He puts a hand to his head as though the whole conversation is giving him a headache. “I didn’t say that, and you know therapy isn’t about insanity most of the time. Stop making people feel bad for needing help sorting themselves out.”