Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 132464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
And it’s not just memories of Josh’s so-called marriage proposal that have been plaguing me all week. Even more so, it’s the way Josh has been treating me ever since that horrible night—like he’s done with me for good. His behavior this past week has been a complete one-eighty compared to the week after the karaoke bar. Back then, there were daily flowers, texts begging for my forgiveness, late-night, drunken voicemails telling me he was hard as a rock and couldn’t stop thinking about me. But this week? Nope. There’s been none of that. Just polite texts asking after my brother and my health, exactly as the ever-polite Mr. Darcy would do—only signs of his perceived obligation and nothing more. And it’s damn-near broken my heart.
Goddammit. I truly thought I was doing the right thing when I turned Josh down at the hospital—I really did—and I guess I still do, intellectually—I mean, jeez, he was such a little prick, oh my God. But, shoot, I just don’t know anymore. I can’t even think straight these days, I miss him so freaking much. If it weren’t for how busy I’ve been this past week visiting Colby and gathering ideas and information for Sarah’s wedding, I’d have hopped a flight to L.A. days ago to fling myself upon Josh’s arrogant mercy and beg him to ask me again.
“Colby’s doing well,” I text to Josh in reply to his polite query. “Thank you for asking.” (I refrain from adding, “good sir” to the end of my sentence, though I’m dying to do it.) I tap out a lengthy (and exceedingly polite) status report about Colby, just as I’ve done every day this past week in reply to Josh’s texts. “All in all, great progress,” I conclude. “At least regarding Colby’s physical healing,” I add. “Mentally, Colby’s not doing quite as well. When I saw him this morning, he was convinced he’d somehow cost that baby her life. He thinks he should have taken a different route out of the building or something.”
“Oh, man. Poor guy. You told him that’s crazy, right? He’s a hero.”
“I told him. But he wouldn’t listen.”
“Well, he’s lucky to have you,” Josh writes. “If anyone can put a smile on a man’s face, it’s you.”
My heart leaps. That’s the first time Josh has texted anything remotely personal to me in a full week—let alone something so lovely. “Thank you,” I write, my heart suddenly gushing with relief and yearning. Oh my effing God, I’m fighting back tears. Oh, how I want to write, “I miss you, Josh! I looooooooove you. Ask me again and I’ll say yes this time, even though I know you don’t really want to marry me!” But I can’t do that. I know full well Josh doesn’t want a wife any more than he wants a baby, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna be the woman who’s trapped Josh Faraday into having two items of baggage he never bargained for. “It means a lot to me that you’d say that about me,” I type, my heart pounding. “Especially now. Just knowing you still feel that way about me is making me want to sob like a baby.”
I’ve no sooner pressed send on my text than my phone rings with an incoming call.
“Hi,” I say softly into the phone, holding back tears.
“Hi,” Josh says.
Oh God, just hearing his sexy voice for the first time in a week is making my heart explode. “I miss you so much,” I blurt. “Josh, I miss you.”
Josh pauses, just long enough to make my stomach drop into my toes.
“I miss you, too,” he finally says, his voice cracking. “So, so much, babe.”
“I thought you hated me,” I whisper.
“Of course, not. Never.” He pauses, apparently collecting himself. “Are you feeling any better today?”
My heart is physically aching. I want to reach through the phone line and kiss him and tell him I love him desperately. “Yeah,” I manage to reply. “I figured out Saltines and ice-cold ginger ale take the edge off my nausea a little bit.”
“Good.” He pauses. “So what are you up to today?” he asks softly.
Oh. We’re gonna have a routine conversation? We’re not gonna talk about his proposal or this past week? No talking about our feelings? Okay. I can do that. I clear my throat. “Well, I visited Colby in the hospital all morning. And now I’m meeting Sarah for lunch to go over wedding stuff. She and Jonas got back from Greece yesterday—oh, duh—you probably heard that from Jonas. But, anyway, since the wedding’s happening so soon—in just twenty-six little days, courtesy of your impatient brother—I pulled together some ideas for Sarah these past few days while she was finishing up her trip.”
“Yeah, I heard about that quick turnaround thing. Classic Jonas.”
“I guess some people in this world just, you know, really want to get married.”