Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“I’m going home,” Finn says, standing without warning
“Sudden illness?” Brooks asks, his tone teasing and light.
“Yeah,” Finn says as he heads to the sink to wash his coffee cup before heading toward the elevator.
The room falls completely silent after Finn disappears. It’s not like we always talk when we’re around each other but right now, it feels like there are things left unsaid. It makes me more than a little uncomfortable, imagining that I’m going to be the topic of conversation when someone finally speaks up.
The silence continues for long minutes, smothering me until I just have to ask Brooks exactly what he heard. I want to know what she looked like when she left. Was she mad or upset? Was she smiling? Did she deny what happened or make excuses about why she would be sneaking out of my room first thing in the morning?
But when I look over at him, his eyes dart down to his watch before he stands.
“Got shit to do,” he mutters, leaving me sitting there with my mouth hanging open.
“I need to call and see what Hayden is up to,” Quinten says as he also stands.
“I think she and Parker were going shopping today,” Jude says as he follows his best friend from the room.
I’m left sitting on the couch alone with my damn mouth hanging open. Every one of the guys with the exception of Brooks has recently fallen head over heels in love. They get wind that I may have hooked up with the woman I’ve always wanted, and it doesn’t even warrant a damn conversation? I feel like I’ve been given the damn shaft right now.
I look down at my phone, once again lighting the screen, only to see I have no messages or notifications. As if that’s not enough, I specifically open the one-sided chat thread between Jules and me.
Me: Good morning.
Me: Just wanted to make sure you made it home okay.
The text messages before these recent ones were sent around Christmastime last year when I was looking for a gift for Beth. Discussing Beth is the only conversation we’ve had the last ten or so years past common pleasantries when we’re both at my parents’ house for Sunday lunch.
It seems things are just going right back to the way they were, as if this weekend never even happened. Maybe I was too eager, too quick to text her. Maybe if I waited and gave her a little time to miss me, the outcome would be different.
I knew what this weekend was, but it didn’t stop the hope that things could morph into something different.
It seems she’s a lot better at keeping to her promises than I am. We were magnetic, explosive. Even if we did nothing but meet up for mind-blowing sex, I think I’d be okay with that. For a while at least.
Who am I kidding? Definitely not myself. Hooking up with Jules Warren was the biggest mistake of my life. Dreaming of how she felt, how she tasted, the sounds she made when she came, was torture enough. Experiencing that firsthand is going to be the death of me, because as angry as I am at her lack of texting back, I’m still sitting here at work with a semi in my damn jeans unable to regret a single minute I spent with her.
“Fuck,” I snap, leaning back on the sofa and digging the palms of my hands into my eyes.
I need a distraction, but Deacon called to let us know he wasn’t going to be in until later because his son has a doctor’s visit and he never misses those types of things. I still need to talk to him about traveling more. I need to get out of St. Louis. I’m too damn close to Jules, and it’s so hard not to go to her house and push the issue of us continuing to hook up. That isn’t all I want from the woman, but I know she wouldn’t be down for anything but that.
I swing my weight up off the couch and look in the direction of my office and then at Wren’s office door. My office gives me the privacy I need to sulk, but it also gives me the computer which would only lead to me, once again, going through every post on social media and overanalyzing the things she’s left unsaid.
I opt to head to Wren’s door, knocking because I know he locked it in Finn’s face.
“It’s open,” he calls from inside, and I turn the doorknob and step inside.
“Bring any bitches?”
I shake my head, ignoring Wren’s African grey parrot, Puff Daddy, because giving him attention is exactly what the damn thing wants.
“How about a little respect for the fairer sex?” Wren says, shaking his head at his pet.
“How about get off my nuts?” Puff barters, his little bird feet sliding along the perch on the far side of the room.