Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Hi,” I say simply, hoping it doesn’t sound like I feel. “What can I get you?”
I know it’s distant. I know it’s cold. I know it must sting. But it feels incredibly reasonable right now, given it’s the only viable way for me to survive.
His jaw clenches hard, pinching the skin of his tanned cheek into a dimple I know he doesn’t have. “Is that really how it’s going to be?” he asks bluntly, and it’s not that I don’t expect it—Clay’s never been one to beat around the bush. But, still, it feels akin to a nuclear bomb…absolutely impossible to withstand.
My hackles rise as a method of self-defense. It’s the only option left before crumbling right here. “You didn’t have to come in here, you know.”
My lashing lands just as I’d expect, breaking open more than just the skin, and Clay has to take a step back to keep himself in check. The less he recognizes the woman he fell in love with, the better off we’ll be. To be fair, at least, I don’t recognize her either.
“I was trying to do the right thing,” he says, but there’s nothing gentle about his delivery.
“The right thing at this point would be to leave me alone.” Every word burns, but I force them out all the same, watching as they turn the most loving man I’ve ever known into someone else entirely.
There are some wounds you can’t heal, and I hate with every fiber of my being that that’s what I’m hoping for.
“You know what, Jose? If you want to be left alone, I’ll leave you alone,” he spits. “Not just now either. I’ll do you one better and never fucking set foot in CAFFEINE again. How’s that?”
His voice is much louder now, and the dull roar of other chatter in the café slows to a stop. I don’t dare look around to see who’s watching—I already know it’ll be everyone.
“That’s perfect,” I say instead, not feeling a single truth in my words. “I don’t want to see you, Clay, and the sooner you get that through your head, the better. You stay out of here and I’ll stay out of The Country Club, and both of us can move on with our lives.”
He stares at me for a long moment, time ticking slower than it’s ever ticked before.
And when he finally opens his mouth, he says two words that should bring me relief, but all they do is slice my chest open and make me bleed.
“We’re done,” he replies, his voice choked with so much pain.
“Yeah, Clay,” I agree, forcing myself to ignore the clawing ache of emotion that wants to migrate up my throat. “We are so done.”
Spinning on his heel, he shoves through the two people behind him without any care or regard, and I hold my breath so completely I don’t know if it’ll ever start again.
Just like that, he’s gone, out of my coffee shop and out of my life. I can’t wait for the day this won’t hurt so fucking much.
Before The Moment: Part 2
The Love
11
Clay
Monday, September 22nd
“Here you go, man,” I say as I hand off a freshly made bottle to Bennett.
He takes it gratefully and walks over to where Summer sits in her little swinging chair. She’s starting to fuss a little, having just woken up from a nap, and I head back into the kitchen, choosing to make myself useful at the sink while he feeds her.
It’s been three months since Bennett showed up in my bar with a baby. Three months of getting reacquainted with my old friend and falling in love with his extremely special little girl, and three months of learning I’m not nearly as good at shit as I once thought.
Summer has a coo and a baby grin that can light up any room, and more patience than I’ve ever known an infant to have—a very important trait for dealing with her father and me. Ben’s effort score is high, but execution, as it were, still leaves a little something to be desired.
Our past lives in no way prepared us for taking care of a baby—and in this case, a special needs baby—at all. Summer was diagnosed at birth with Osteogenesis Imperfecta Type III, and because of that, all the normal care that comes with a delicate newborn is even more tenuous.
Ben and I were wild. We partied and drank and spent our parents’ money recklessly while they lived their lives like they didn’t have kids. We had nannies to do our bidding and assistants when we got older. Both of us were tailspinning in our parents’ footsteps of wealthy neglect and disdain.
It wasn’t something we chose, but it wasn’t something we understood either. After moving here and opening The Country Club as a final stick-it moment to my father, my entire outlook on life and how it should be lived changed. It’s not about money or things or even me. It’s about time spent with good people and finding the ways to make a difference in their lives.