Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 43239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 173(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 173(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
As I step down from the stage, handing off my slides to the tech assistant, I catch Harrison’s eye. My feet move toward him before I can think.
I lift my arms for a hug—grinning, breathless—but he doesn’t move.
He gently lowers my arms.
“Oh… not in public?” I ask, laughing awkwardly.
“Right,” he says. “And not ever again.”
I blink. “What?”
He doesn’t give me an answer.
“Want to join me on the rooftop for drinks?” I ask, trying to recover. “Can you believe I got a standing ovation?”
“I’ll have to raincheck on that.”
The chill in his tone hits me like a slap. I laugh again, nervous. “Well, I’m done for the evening, so maybe we can—”
“You should graciously mingle with vendors and sponsors until the ballroom closes,” he says, cutting me off. He pulls a folded piece of paper from his jacket and hands it to me. “I have no doubt you’ll get plenty of business after this. Can you sign off on this?”
I stare at him, then take the pen from his pocket and scrawl my name on the line, my chest tightening.
“Can we talk outside for a second, Harrison?” I whisper. “Something’s off with you.”
“It was a pleasure having you as a client, Miss Hart.” His voice is cold. Formal.
I blink harder this time, certain I misheard him.
“You can take up to two weeks to move your things out of my condo,” he adds, still not looking at me. “I’ll check in with the doorman before I return so we don’t cross paths.”
“Harrison, what the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m saying goodbye, Eliza,” he says. “Our business is officially done.”
I take a shaky breath. “Our business? You mean our relationship, too?”
His expression doesn’t change. “We never had a relationship. And we never will.”
I don’t even feel the floor under me anymore.
“Good luck,” he adds, then turns and walks away like I meant nothing.
I open my mouth to say his name, to scream, to run after him—but someone touches my arm before I can move.
“Miss Hart?” a man says breathlessly. “Your presentation was incredible. Could I speak to you about making a one-month reservation at the farm?”
I smile because I’m supposed to. Because that’s what people like me do.
I nod, and I smile.
And I pretend I didn’t just break into a thousand pieces.
THIRTY-EIGHT
ELIZA
Idon’t cry on the way back to Harrison’s penthouse.
Not when I wave the town car away and tell the driver I’d rather walk home. Not when I stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue in heels I finally learned to walk in.
I don’t even cry when I see my reflection in the window of some designer boutique, dressed like a woman I don’t recognize.
But the second I close the door to the penthouse and hear nothing—no footsteps, no voice, no “You looked beautiful tonight” or “I’m fucking sorry”—I crack.
I kick off the heels, peel off the lashes, tug at the thousand-dollar dress until it tears at the seams.
All the stuff Harrison said about me to his family was all an act, and I should’ve known better than to think he’d ever want to be with me for the long term.
“It was just a deal,” I whisper to myself. “A temporary fucking unfair deal.”
I open my phone to send a message to Harrison.
Type. Delete. Type again.
I hover over sending Once an asshole, always an asshole. Fuck you and goodbye.
I can’t hit send, though.
I shut off the phone and rush to my room, packing up only the things I came here with.
It’s time to go back home.
For good.
THIRTY-EIGHT (B)
ELIZA
Two Days Later
Jackson is leaning against the hood of his truck when I step out of the arrival doors at Nashville’s airport.
Dressed in his trademark long-sleeved white work shirt and jeans, he’s twirling a daisy between his fingertips.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” He looks up at me and smiles. “How did it go?”
“I think it went pretty good.”
“You think?” He looks worried. “Did you get at least one company to ask for our information or request a potential contract?”
“No.”
He briefly shuts his eyes and sighs. Then he pulls me into a hug.
“It’s okay, Eliza.” He’s hugging me harder than usual. “We’ll figure something out. This was still worth one hell of a try.”
“Huh?” I pull away from him. “Why are you sounding so despondent?”
“You said you didn’t get a single company to take a second look at us.”
“Because I got all of them.”
He blinks as I pull a thick stack of golden cards from my purse.
“They want to hear from you as soon as possible.”
He stares at the stack in disbelief.
“Why does it look like you’re about to cry, Jackson?”
“I should’ve never doubted you.” He takes the stack from me as a tear falls down his face. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I say. “I don’t know if I’d have done so well without your friend’s help.”
“My friend?” He lets out a laugh and slowly pulls back. “So, I guess you two didn’t end up being friends after all that time together?”