Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
My stomach twists. “Because of our parents?”
He shrugs. “I’m sure they played a part in it. You know how they were. Always asking when we were getting married and what our future looked like. It felt more like an obligation. One I didn’t know how to get out of.”
My mouth opens and then closes again. It’s like being hit with a truth I wasn’t ready for.
“I wish you would’ve said something,” I murmur. “I never wanted you to feel like that.”
“In hindsight, I should have,” he admits. “I should’ve ended things sooner. I should’ve been honest, but I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“You did hurt me,” I say quietly.
He nods. “I know.”
There’s still one thing I haven’t let go of. One image burned so deeply into my brain it resurfaces every time I think I’m past it.
“When I walked in on you and Marissa…” My voice wavers. “I-I’d never seen you like that before. You looked… I don’t even know. Uninhibited. Alive.”
His cheeks darken as he glances away. “Do we really need to go there?”
“Yes,” I say, firmer now. “I need to understand how you could be one person with me and someone completely different with her.”
Devon’s gaze drifts toward the windows and the busy street beyond it. “With Marissa… I don’t know. I feel freer. Like I can just be myself without thinking about what I’m supposed to be.” He shrugs, as if that explains everything. “It made me realize we were never right for each other, Lilah. I didn’t understand it at the time, but now I do.”
“And yet, you stayed, instead of just ending it,” I whisper.
“Yeah, well. I guess I didn’t want to be the bad guy. You were always so put together. Smart. Driven. It felt like you had a five-year plan, and I didn’t want to be the one to derail it.”
The words land like a punch.
They’re not meant to be cruel, but they’re careless enough to leave a bruise.
“So, you thought you’d coast until something better came along?”
Devon winces. “That’s not what I meant.”
But he doesn’t deny it.
And maybe that’s worse.
He glances down at the floor. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay. Wherever you go or whatever you do, I’m sure you’ll land on your feet.”
Like I’m a cat who tripped, not a woman who was blindsided and left to rebuild.
I nod tightly. “Take care of yourself.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but I’m already turning away. The door chimes as I step into the crisp October air and exhale slowly.
Whatever Devon was supposed to be in my life, that story is over.
And this time, I’m the one closing the book.
38
STEELE
Istep off the elevator and into the penthouse, the door gliding shut behind me with a muted thud.
It’s quiet.
But it’s the kind of quiet I like now.
The kind that makes me smile.
Home used to be just a place to crash between games. A high-rise with sleek finishes, cold surfaces, and a view of Lake Michigan that didn’t mean anything to me.
But since Lilah moved in?
Now it feels different.
Full.
Alive.
Bursting with energy.
More than that, it feels like home.
The way it was always meant to.
I toss my keys onto the credenza and shrug out of my jacket, glancing toward the kitchen out of habit. Half-expecting to see her barefoot, humming off-key to whatever moody indie playlist she’s fallen in love with this week, dancing around while she stirs something that smells like heaven and tastes even better.
But the kitchen’s empty.
No music. No movement. No scent of garlic or butter or whatever magic she usually brews up.
A frown tugs at my lips as my muscles tense.
It’s ridiculous how quickly the unease sets in.
“Lilah?” I call out, my voice echoing in the stillness as I move through the space.
No answer.
My stomach churns.
Then, a little gray blur shoots out from under the coffee table, meowing as she skids across the hardwood.
“Hey, Waffles.” I crouch, reaching out as she trots over, tail held high like a tiny, fuzzy antenna.
She lets out another chirpy meow as I scoop her up and scratch behind her ears.
“Where’s your mama, huh?” I murmur, holding her up to eye level. She blinks at me like she’s keeping secrets. “You gonna tell me?”
Waffles responds with a dramatic yawn before flopping against my torso, purring like a tiny engine.
I chuckle and rub a hand down her back.
“Guess that’s a no.”
Her presence eases something in me. The place feels a little less empty with her snug in my arms. But it still doesn’t explain where Lilah is.
I carry Waffles with me as I check the bedroom, my heart ticking faster than it should. The door is open, and the first thing I spot is a pile of clothes on the floor near the foot of the bed.
That’s a good sign.
She’s here.
But something still feels off.
I set Waffles on the bed and give her a final scratch behind the ears before rounding the corner.