Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
His job meant he traveled a lot. He wasn’t around much.
And maybe that was why we’d lasted as long as we had.
After I lost my parents, I’d seen a caring side to him I hadn’t expected. He’d moved me into his apartment to keep an eye on me and I’d dazedly gone with it despite London’s reservations. My friend had grown quiet over her dislike of Hugh since he’d reintroduced her to Nick whom we knew of in high school. Nick and Hugh were two peas in a pod as far as I was concerned, but London had been dating him for a month and seemed to like him. Despite not liking Hugh. Strange, but true. But I’d seen her sneer today at the mention of my cohabitee.
I’d noted it.
I’d noticed.
Huh.
As I walked into the apartment building, the doorman/security guard, Harvey Collins, a large gentleman in his early thirties, raised his eyebrows. “Ms. Silver. I … Good afternoon.”
I frowned at his strange expression. “Good afternoon, Mr. Collins.”
“It’s Harvey, Ms. Silver,” he reminded me like he always reminded me, but his eyes darted to the elevator with nervousness.
My parents, Maura Gordon and Carter Silver, had instilled in me that if someone showed me the respect of calling me by my surname, I showed that respect back. Harvey Collins didn’t work for me. He protected Hugh’s building from unwanted visitors.
His nervousness, however, was strange.
Even stranger that I was noticing.
It was as if my conversation with London today had woken me out of a thick fog.
I swiped the key card and then hit the button for the penultimate floor, noting Harvey scowling at the wall. The doors closed before I could ask him if he was all right.
A minute later, I let myself into the apartment. As I stepped into the open-plan living space, an unfamiliar woman came hurrying out of the main bedroom, barefooted and buttoning up her silk blouse. Her hair was a mess, her expression frantic.
And Hugh came rushing out after her, barefooted, wearing his suit trousers and shrugging on his shirt.
My boyfriend was a handsome, smooth type of attractive. Perfect hair, perfect teeth, perfectly straight nose, lips just full enough, and a strong, sharp, masculine jawline. He worked out obsessively, so his sculpted body was a thing of beauty.
As I took in the situation, I realized that I felt nothing.
He was cheating on me with this woman—oh, I did recognize her. She worked in his office. Carolina or Catalina. Something like that.
Her cheeks flushed ruby red as she hurried into her high heels and grabbed her jacket. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured as she rushed past me and into the elevator.
I watched the doors close behind her and turned to Hugh.
He sighed in exasperation, running a hand through his hair. “You were supposed to be at an interview.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “You’re correct. You fucking another woman is my fault because I was supposed to be at an interview.”
Hugh flinched at my flat tone. “I … I don’t know what to say.”
“Sorry is usually a good go-to.”
“I don’t think I am.” He shrugged. “I have needs, Tierney. Having sex with you is like jerking off. You just lie there. You don’t do anything.”
Disgust soured my gut. “I’m sorry grief has gotten in the way of my libido.”
“Your parents died nearly a year ago!” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “And it still feels like I’m living with a fucking ghost! Excuse me if I need a little attention from someone who enjoys having sex with me.”
The last of my numbness melted away as I stared in horror at this man I was sharing a life with. But I wasn’t, was I? Because he was right. He was the best lover I’d had—which wasn’t saying a lot—but after my parents died, I completely lost interest in Hugh. In every way. We were just two people sharing an apartment. I’d thought him patient. That I’d gotten him wrong before their deaths. That he was kind and understanding.
Like fuck he was!
He was screwing around behind my back. “The right thing to do is break up with a person. Not fuck around with other women. Jesus! I need to get a sexual health check, you absolute selfish prick!”
Hugh’s jaw dropped. Then he took a step toward me. “Do you realize that is the most impassioned thing you’ve said to me in a year?”
Seriously? “You’re an asshole.”
I shoved past him, striding into the large bedroom and into the walk-in closet. Finding my suitcases, I rolled them out into the room.
“What are you doing?” Hugh grabbed my wrist as I reached up to begin pulling clothes down to pack them.
I shrugged him off. “I’m leaving.”
“No.” He bent his face to mine and now it was my turn to gape at the aggression in his features. “I haven’t put up with your shit for a year for you to walk away now.”