Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“Can I ask you something personal?”
He nods.
“How did you know that you wanted to get married? That they were the one you thought you should be with for the rest of your life?”
This elicits a sigh from him. “We’d been together a few years when she asked me.”
“She asked you?”
“Yeah.” He smiles. “Beatriz knew what she wanted. I always liked that about her. She was going to make manager where she worked and put a down payment on an apartment and all sorts of things. She was going places, and I loved her, so I wanted to go with her.”
I wait.
“We were both working long hours and giving our jobs everything. Making head chef at a great restaurant was what I’d always wanted. But I came home one night and realized I hadn’t seen her in almost a week. We would text each other about paying bills and feeding the cat and not a hell of a lot else. That’s not much of a marriage. Things had been falling apart for so long we didn’t even know where to start trying to put it back together.”
“That must have hurt you both.”
“It wasn’t acrimonious as these things go, and it’s been a year now.” He shrugs. “Sitting here eating ice cream with you isn’t so bad. I kind of feel like I’ve landed on my feet.”
I raise my pint in toast to the man.
“People have this idea of love like if it’s real it’ll all just be okay. But that’s not how things go. You have to want it enough to put in the work,” he says. “Anyway…I’m in no rush to get serious with someone again. Dating casually is one thing. But going through a divorce was a lot.”
“Time to relax and enjoy your life.”
“That’s right,” he says with a nod. “Enough of my shit. Give me a rundown of your romantic history.”
“That won’t take long.” I smile. Then I stop smiling. “I thought I loved Ryan and that he was the one. But I didn’t even really know him…just who he was pretending to be. The mask he wore to blend in with the general public and pretend to be normal.”
“Has there been anyone since?”
“No.”
He watches me in silence.
“Today was trash,” I say. “But tomorrow will be better.”
“Not tonight?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Tonight is for wallowing and feeling shitty.”
He puts down his pint and pulls his cell out of his pants pocket. A few taps on the screen later, music starts playing. “You need the right ambience for that.”
“What is this?” I ask. “Adele?”
“Yeah.”
“Noah, you can’t just play something like this without warning people. It’s so sad. You can actually hear her heart breaking.”
“So fucking sad,” he agrees. “I play it in my car when I feel like crying.”
I laugh softly.
“You mock my pain.”
“Sorry. My bad.”
“How about this one,” he says, tapping another button on his screen. “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron plays next.
“Oof. This is a doozy.”
“I know, right?”
“It’s like musically having your heart gouged out with a fork.”
“That’s disturbingly graphic, but apt. I also occasionally like to stare into the abyss and despair of life to this one.” He plays another song. The version of “Hallelujah” by Jeff Buckley.
“Having an existential crisis to this song is honestly an appropriate response.”
“Glad you approve.”
I stab my spoon into the softened ice cream. Seems you can in fact eat too much sugar. “You’ve completely derailed my wallowing. Shame on you.”
“I’d hope you’re still feeling at least a little shitty. You seemed so set on tonight being the worst. I would hate to trash that for you.”
“Nope. You’ve completely wrecked my plans,” I say. “Thanks.”
He stares at me for a moment and smiles, and I have to remind myself again—just friends. He doesn’t want anything romantic and I can and will respect that. But each moment I spend with him, my heart seems to slip a little farther out of my reach.
CHAPTER SIX
“An iced coffee with skim milk and a shot of butterscotch syrup, please,” I say with a smile bordering on rigor mortis. My face is aching from holding this sucker in place. It’s Thursday morning and I have decided to come at the world with the energy I hope to see. Therefore, I am being the politest, most boundary-respecting bitch in all of time and space.
Wide eyes blink at me from behind the counter. “You’re that girl.”
“Yes.”
The barista mumbles something and gets busy with my order. No idea what he said. I don’t really want to know. Any hope people had been starting to forget about my existence has been obliterated, and there’s nothing I can do about it. The trailer is sitting pretty at a quarter of a million views. And you just know ninety percent of those views are probably from the citizens of this fair city. Briana Petersen and my ex and I are back in the news. However, I am not going back into hiding.