Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
It’s not a question, but it sure does sound like a threat of him insinuating more than business acquaintances. “You’re crossing a line you don’t want to, Mr. Goodman.”
“I’ve crossed many lines.” He rocks on the heels of his loafers with his hands tucked in his pockets. I can hear the jangle of change or keys, which grates on my last nerve. “It always works out well for me.”
Squaring my shoulders to face him, I reply, “Not this time.”
“You’re very pretty.”
“I’m also married and have no intention of cheating on my husband.”
His hands go up in front of him. “Who said anything about cheating?”
“Bob?” Hearing his wife standing behind me stiffens my spine.
I release a heavy sigh. He’s good, making it look like I was the one coming onto him. Asshole.
I could bother to tell her the truth, but when I look back over my shoulder, there’s no anger nor jealousy scribed in her expression. Disillusionment might describe it better by the lack of fight in her eyes. She probably accepted this fate years before I entered the picture, trading the lifestyle for happiness.
She puts on a smile that can’t be more fake, and says, “It’s time for the toast, dear.”
He walks by me, hitting me with ire in his eyes when he passes.
If this is what it means to be rich, I choose my life with all the struggles that come with it any day.
I’m still unsure what to do about the bet and the betrayal of Baylor, but a plan finally comes to mind. I cross the lawn, tossing my plate in the trash, and go to him.
He walks to meet me halfway, his smile holding the uncertainty of someone who cares and is worried about me, not someone who would make a lame bet to sleep with me. He extends his arm, then I walk into the offer, and he brings me to his side. He’s still so comforting, like my favorite blanket that keeps me warm on stormy nights.
It’s more difficult to stay mad when I still see him as my friend and feel him as my husband. Yesterday wasn’t that long ago. The impact it made still lingers and thrives in my heart.
He kisses the side of my head, then asks, “You excited to see the fireworks?” There’s such innocence and hope in the question.
It’s not ideal, but I’d rather lose everything than sacrifice my soul. Even him, if it comes to that. “I’m leaving, Baylor.”
CHAPTER 28
Baylor
“Why are you leaving?”
Lauralee wrangles away from me and looks around as if checking to make sure no one is listening. Setting her eyes on me again, she whispers, “I played my part. Now I’m leaving.”
“Three hours? That’s it?”
“That’s it.” She walks away like I won’t follow her.
I’m right on her heels, willing to follow her off a cliff if that’s where she’s headed. “You’re not going to talk to me about it?”
“What’s there to say?”
I catch up to her, matching her pace while trying not to look like I’m fighting with my bride at a company party the day after we got married. “Telling me what’s wrong would help. What did I do, Shortcake?”
She stops, tilts her head to the side, and hits me with a glare so hard it about knocks me backward. “Don’t call me that. You’ve lost your privileges.”
I balk. “My privileges?”
“Yes. You’ve lost them as my husband and my friend. You can call me Lauralee or Ms. Knot. That’s it.”
“I prefer Mrs. Greene.”
She scoffs with an exaggerated eye roll. “I bet.”
A clue to what’s fucking going on would be nice, but it doesn’t seem like I’ll get that luxury. “Why are you always saying that? You’ve said it three times today.”
I swear that steam shoots from her ears. “This is why I can’t talk to you. You do stuff like that and expect me to just fall over like a domino at your whim. Not this time.” She starts for the house again, giving the partygoers surrounding the pool a wide berth.
I know better than to push this too far in the middle of the party. We go inside. I give her some space to get ahead of me again, sensing she needs it. And though I have plenty to say, I wordlessly follow her to the bedroom. As soon as I close the door, I keep my tone lowered and say, “Please talk to me.”
She’d already launched her suitcase onto the bed, but her hands stop after she unzips it. With her back to me, I can tell the debate she’s having with herself by the way she shakes her head before looking down, clenching her eyes closed. She finally turns around, tears streaking her cheeks, but she holds her head high. “Tagger texted earlier when you were in the store. I’m not sure if you got it.”