Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
He laughs, but it’s not a good laugh. “The end. And they lived happily ever after. Right?”
Nothing about his foreboding tone and eerie sarcasm feels like a segue to a happily ever after.
“Blair thought she was pregnant. She found out she’s not. She’s heartbroken. And I am her lifeline.”
I swallow back the bile that works its way up my throat, but it doesn’t quell the nausea.
He doesn’t look at me, and I don’t know what to say. Minutes pass. How many? I’m not sure, but the heaviness in the air just gets thicker and more suffocating as the silence drags on.
“Can I ask why you need to make so much money?” He changes the subject, and I take a second to process his question. “You have a free place to live.”
“I want to buy a house.”
“So you have space between work and your personal life?”
“Well, it’s not a bad idea.”
He squints. “That’s not really an answer. More like a second thought.”
“How did you feel about the possibility of Blair being pregnant?”
His face relaxes, and he slowly shakes his head. “Numb. Speechless. And …”
“And?”
“Crushed,” he whispers. “Then ashamed.”
“I’m so sorry.”
His gaze snaps to mine for a breath before he pushes out of the chair. My heart knocks harder against its cage with each step he takes.
“Why would you be sorry?”
“Because I think I took the wrong job,” I say.
“You saved a man’s life.”
“I’m destroying yours.”
Anguish brands his face. “Don’t say that.”
“Am I wrong?” I laugh. “We had sex. It was good. We were really good at it eight years ago, too. But I’m sure Blair gets your dick up just fine. She’s artistic. She has good breeding. She—”
“Are you serious?” He rests a hand on his hip and stares at the ceiling. “Breeding? I should be with Blair because she has good breeding?”
“No. But it’s not a bad thing.”
Murphy pins me with a look. “Say that to my fucking face without grinning. Look me in the eye and tell me that breeding is a serious consideration for spending the rest of your life with someone.”
I roll my lips together.
“Nope. Don’t do that. Don’t hide your grin. Don’t pretend that you don’t see the ridiculousness of such a statement.”
“We’re done talking.” I pivot and click my heels along the floor toward the laundry room.
“We’re done talking when I say we’re done talking.” He stalks behind me.
I wrinkle my nose and mimic under my breath, “We’re done talking when I say we’re done talking.”
“I can hear you.” He grabs my arm and spins me around just as I step into the laundry room.
This isn’t funny. It’s heartbreaking, yet I can’t seem to wipe the grin off my face.
“Stop laughing. It’s not funny.” He narrows his eyes. “And you know good is not the word that describes us when we have sex.”
“I’m not having sex with you,” I say, despite his face inches from mine. Despite my breathy words. “You can say ‘hi’ a million times. But it’s not happening. I’m done being the other woman. I’m a homemaker, not a home-wrecker.”
His lips twitch. “Is that so?”
I tip my chin up and give him a quick nod.
“I’m not in the mood anyway.” He turns and disappears around the corner.
My jaw drops. What?
I jolt toward the door as a few choice words get ready to take flight.
“Hi,” he whispers, perched around the corner, scaring the hell out of me.
I gasp just as his mouth seals to mine. His kiss is all-consuming. He’s all-consuming. Every ounce of self-control dies, taking my conscience to the grave with it.
It’s not until I stop trying to resist him that he lets me go. We stare at each other through wild eyes and labored breaths.
“Why do you want to move to Edina?” he asks, then rubs the red lipstick from his mouth with the back of his hand.
I squint. “I never told you I was looking at a house in Edina.”
His jaw clenches.
“I never told you that.”
“Can you answer the question?”
“Can you tell me why you followed me?”
After a little standoff, he crosses his arms over his chest, but it’s not going to protect him.
I deflate. “Just marry her and forget about me.”
He grabs my arm again when I brush past him, but this time, he doesn’t force me to face him. “I want to trust you.”
“Why?” I stare at the floor.
“Because I want to be with you, but if I can’t trust you, it’s never going to work.”
“Blair is—”
“I don’t want to marry Blair!”
I stiffen with my breath held, mind reeling because he’s so angry.
He releases my arm and steps back into the wall, dropping his head against it. “I don’t want to marry Blair,” he repeats in a calmer tone. “And you fucking know that.”
I lift my head, and without turning to face him, I murmur, “My son lives in Edina.”