Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Wait a minute.
“Who sent them?”
“Does that really matter, lady?” He gives me a look. “They were flown in overnight from Colombia. Whoever sent them must really like you.”
My smile fades.
“Who sent them?” I repeat, keeping my voice firm.
“Ugh, women.” He rolls his eyes and tugs the tag free. “It just says, From the man you still belong to. P.S. You promised your pussy would always belong to me.”
Heat rushes into my cheeks.
Of course.
“I’m refusing delivery.” I shake my head. “You can send them back.”
“Or…” He glances at the bouquet. “How about I step outside, come back in a few minutes, and tell you they’re from someone else?”
I give him a blank stare.
“Fine.” He sighs. “Can I give them to my girlfriend, then? I’m pretty sure she’d appreciate five hundred dollars’ worth of roses.”
“I hope she does.” I force a smile. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Can you at least sign for them on my keypad?”
“No.” I swallow the lump forming in my throat, unwilling to give Jameson even the slightest reason to believe I accepted them. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I don’t know you or what this guy did,” he says, taking a step back, “but it seems like he’s genuinely trying to make up for it.”
“He knows exactly what he has to do to make things right.” I look at the roses one last time. “He just doesn’t want to do it, so even a hundred bouquets wouldn’t be enough.”
“Okay, then…” He shrugs. “Well, I guess you’re just an ungrateful cunt.”
He slams the door on his way out.
I’m tempted to chase him down and give him a piece of my mind, but I force myself to stay put and focus on pulling the remaining bobby pins from my hair instead.
Seconds later, a fist pounds against my door again.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“Okay, you know what?” I bite back a groan and push myself out of the chair.
“You’re one hundred percent right about not knowing me because—”
I swing open the door, fully prepared to tell him exactly where he can shove Jameson’s flowers, but the rest of my sentence dies in my throat.
My mother is standing on the other side.
“Am I catching you at a bad time, Scarlett?” she asks.
I don’t answer.
I can’t.
All I can do is stare at her.
She looks nothing like the woman I’ve known my entire life.
There’s no designer summer dress hugging her figure, no perfectly tailored custom suit. Instead, an oversized gray T-shirt swallows her thin frame, and her jeans have one too many slashes in them—almost like she added a few herself.
There isn’t a trace of makeup on her face, either.
“Are you going to invite me into your dressing room, Scarlett?”
“No.” I finally find my voice. “What do you want?”
“Excuse me?” She takes a step back. “That’s no way to talk to your mother.”
“It wouldn’t be if you were a good one.” I fold my arms across my chest. “What do you want?”
And how the hell did you find me?
She lets out a quiet sigh, and I start counting backward from ten.
The second I reach zero, I’m shutting this door and pretending she was never standing on the other side of it.
“I came here to apologize to you,” she says. “I’m very sorry.”
“Apology unaccepted. Anything else?”
“Scarlett…”
“How did you find me?” The question slips out before I can stop it. “I didn’t tell anyone about my plans.”
“I would really appreciate it if you gave me an hour of your time.”
“I can’t.” I shake my head. “I don’t trust you not to slap me the second I say something you don’t like. Or worse, run straight to my father and tell him.”
Her face flushes red, and she takes a tentative step closer.
“I should’ve never done that, Scarlett. I’m so sorry.” Her voice softens. “I still haven’t forgiven myself.”
“That makes two of us.”
An ache blooms in my chest as she closes the remaining distance between us and reaches up, gently pressing her palm against my healed skin.
“I love you, Scarlett,” she says. “I know I haven’t always shown it, and you don’t have to believe me right now, but I’d like to spend whatever time I have left making things right with you.”
Her hand trembles slightly against my cheek.
“I’ve obviously failed with your brothers,” she says, her voice cracking, “and now I’ve failed with your father, too. But…I need to make amends with you. Even if you hate me. Even if you turn me away for years.” She pauses. “I’m going to keep trying.”
Slowly, she lowers her hand and takes a step back.
“I booked a suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel for the next eleven months—or until you leave this city.” She swallows. “It’s only a few blocks from here, and I have standing brunch and dinner reservations at noon and six every day. If you ever want to stop by, I’ll be there.”