Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
“It’s scary,” Maddie says, shifting in her seat and breaking eye contact.
“Love is terrifying,” Kat adds.
“It’s not wrong. You haven’t done anything wrong and you should do what you want to do. Even if that’s breaking every bachelor’s heart in New York City.” A soft, playful smile greets me as I look at Sue. She nudges me and reaches for the paper. “This wasn’t your fault, but I can’t say I’m not curious about the gossip ... and that I don’t think there was something good about you two being together.”
Mason
Anger management. The paper crinkles in my hand as I crumple it.
No charges were pressed, but I’m sure Liam’s getting a kick out of the anger management classes the judge ordered me to attend. Prick. I know the asshole would have pushed the issue further if it wasn’t for the company. He wants to save face and hold this over me so I can do his bidding.
That’s not going to fucking happen. I’ll take on all the debt if I have to and do it myself. The project is canceled; I’m taking the hit and dissolving the company. It’s better that I’m alone. It’s as simple as that.
I drop the empty bottle of whisky in the trash can as well as the notice regarding the anger management course. The glass bottle clinks against the metal frame of the photograph. I stare down into the bin, the shattered glass marring the photo of the picture-perfect family. It’s destroyed … but really, it’s always been that way.
I’m tired and angry, and tired of being angry too. This isn’t what I wanted or planned. I wanted more. For me, that meant Jules. With my fingers pinching the bridge of my nose, I lean back against the kitchen wall.
Call it what you want. Out of everything in life, she’s the only thing I know I truly want. That should mean something.
I make my way upstairs, walking slowly and dreading another night alone in this empty house. It never bothered me much before, but I can’t fucking stand the silence now.
Someone knocks three times at the front door and I still with my hand on the banister.
I wait a moment, wondering who the fuck would be here this late at night, even though only one name comes to mind. I steel myself for the worst, thinking it’s my father. I can’t face him right now. Not after what he’s done and what I accused him of. It’s only after another three knocks that I force myself to face the consequences. I open the door with a swift pull, prepared to turn him away, but my voice is caught in my throat.
Jules’s baby blue eyes look at me with a mix of emotions. Fear, sorrow … hope. The chill of the wind spreads goosebumps along her arms and blows her long brunette hair off her shoulders. She looks to her left and then right, pulling her leather jacket tighter around her and taking a small step toward me.
“Mason,” she says and licks her lush lips, painted with that same color I’ve grown to expect from her. “I—” She stops to clear her throat and looks away again as I stand numb in the doorway.
Fate’s delivered her to me. I can’t let her go this time. I won’t.
“I was hoping we could talk?” Her voice is timid and her heels click on the cement porch as she shifts in place. Her tight blue jeans hug her curves, although the loose cream blouse beneath her jacket leaves much to the imagination. I know what’s under there, though.
I don’t say a word, too afraid of scaring her off. Instead I take a step to the side and open the door wider, waiting for her to walk in.
Her cheeks and the tip of her nose are a beautiful rosy red from the bite of the night air.
She hesitantly steps inside and looks around as if she hasn’t been here enough times to have the place memorized. I close the door and stare at the lock a moment too long before turning it.
“Mason, I’m sorry.” Jules’s voice calls to me as I turn around to face her. I watch her swallow and then bite down on her bottom lip. She’s worried and apologetic, but I don’t give a fuck about the past. I never did. I care about what she wants now.
“Why are you here, Jules?” I ask her in a deep voice. It’s rougher than I intended, but it’s all I can manage.
“I heard about what happened,” she says. She fidgets as she waits for my response, but I don’t give her one. I’m not interested in talking about anything but us. I don’t want to taint her with the bullshit. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for hurting you,” she says in a tight voice full of agony.