Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
“What’s wrong?” asks Dierdre, frowning.
“Nothing.”
“Something is definitely up with you—” She breaks off on a gasp. “I mean, you’re always a little awkward, but you’ve been acting extra weird since your accidental date yesterday.”
“Have I?” I ask breezily, but I don’t quite pull off the casual act because my throat hurts simply from talking about Theo. It’s pathetic how quickly I got attached. Maybe I should just talk to Dierdre about the whole situation. She has more experience with men than I do. She could have some valuable insight. I don’t have a lot of friends to call about this kind of thing. “He…found me after all. We connected on the train.”
My co-worker does a double take. “What do you mean, he found you?”
“He just…did. I think he asked Kevin for my information.”
“And Kevin just gave it to him?” She stares at me stunned for a few seconds, then takes her phone out, tapping the screen a handful of times, before holding it up to her ear. “Kevin? It’s Dierdre. Did you…”
I can’t make out what Kevin is saying on the other end of the line, but he’s talking a blue streak. When Dierdre’s eyes start to widen, there’s a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“What?” I mouth at her.
She shakes her head slowly. “Kevin, I’m so sorry. I…why didn’t you call me? Have you told the police?”
My eyes shoot wide. Police?
“You’re too afraid of this guy to call the police? That’s what you’re telling me?” She rakes a hand through her hair. “Kevin, he put you in the hospital!”
All at once, everything clicks into place. I know she’s talking about Theo. Theo got my information from Kevin. And apparently caused him bodily harm to get it.
The boom of my pulse drowns out the rest of the conversation. I’m in a daze. Dierdre is talking to me, but all I can think about is my own shortsighted behavior. I let this violent man into my home. He admitted to struggling with the need to take me on the couch, before I’d given him the green light. And yet, I slept beside him so soundly. Better than I’ve slept in years. Even now, I miss him.
Is there something wrong with me?
“Come on,” Dierdre says, shouldering my purse and steering me toward the elevator. “We’re going to get a drink. This is some happy hour shit right here.”
“Is Kevin…okay?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“A broken eye socket and two missing teeth later, yeah, he’s fine,” Dierdre says dryly. “He’s adamant about not involving the police, but dude, this commando guy has all your information, July. And he’s obviously dangerous. We need to call someone.”
I know she’s right, so why am I shaking my head?
Dierdre starts. “No? What am I missing?”
He won’t hurt me. He just hasn’t adjusted to civilian life yet.
I can’t even say it out loud, because I’ll sound like such a cliché. How can I explain having this crucial certainty about a man I’ve only known for one day?
Then again, I thought I was special to him and he left.
I could be completely wrong about his character, too.
“Let me think about it,” I manage, wetting my dry lips. “I know it’s concerning.”
“Good,” Dierdre huffs, hooking her arm through mine and leading me into the building’s lobby. It’s not as full as usual, since we’re leaving an hour early from work, so I can actually hear our footsteps echoing off the marble walls. “Vikander and the rest of the crew are already at happy hour. Just a block from here.”
“Don’t tell them anything about this, okay?”
“Ah, come on. For once, you’re interesting!”
“Come up with something else,” I say, wanting more than ever to go home and lick my wounds. My heart isn’t into happy hour, and fifteen minutes later, I can only stand there holding a sweating vodka and tonic, sipping steadily and without really thinking, conversation whipping at a breakneck pace around me, leaving me totally disconnected, as always. It’s worse than usual this time, though, because I’ve so recently vocalized to Theo this feeling of being on the outside looking in. Pretending to enjoy myself for no reason, except to briefly belong. But the more I try to belong to other people, the less I belong to myself.
I didn’t feel that way with him.
Suddenly, there’s a niggle of electricity on back of my neck.
Before I even turn around, I know he’s there.
Theo.
Standing right outside the bar, looking in at me through the glass, his face a mask of intensity, the evening wind whipping his hair in ninety directions.
God help me, my first reaction is decimating relief. If he’s here, he cares about me. He didn’t leave my apartment last night with no intention of ever seeing me again. Right?
Following closely on the heels of relief is irritation. Not the minor kind of annoyance I feel about a work setback or the fries not being delivered with my takeout order. This is a hot, stormy kind that I’ve never experienced before. I’m mad…and there’s also a mean, little twist beneath my navel. A chaotic fluttering in the vicinity of my collarbone. It causes me to turn my back on him abruptly and sip my drink, my pulse flying into a rapid march. Because I anticipate a response from him. I don’t know what it’s going to be, which is new for me. Life is usually so predictable. Not like this.