Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“Duff,” Kieran groaned, looking pained. “Please say something.”
My insides singed. Not with hurt as much as with anger. At myself, mostly. I had no one else to blame. I’d placed my bet on a spoiled rich man I’d had little in common with, and paid a hefty price. Perhaps Riggs was right and it was time to think about what I wanted to do instead of how I wanted to live.
“I’ve got to go,” I heard myself say.
“Duffy . . .”
I hung up, turning to the Uber driver in a daze. “Can you make an unplanned stop?”
“Hmm . . .” His gaze swung to mine in the rearview mirror. “You’ll have to get into the app and—”
“My boyfriend of seven years just told my brother that he slept with someone else at a beach party, even though he told me he was away helping monks in Kathmandu. How about now?”
This was the part in the movie where the driver would say something like, “Girl, I’ve got you, let’s kick some ass!” But this wasn’t a movie. This was my life. So the man just suppressed an eye roll and muttered, “Yeah . . . that sucks . . . but I’ll still need you to reroute your trip on the app.”
“Just pull over right here, please.”
I stumbled out of the Uber, feeling raw and disoriented. I was quite a few blocks away from my flat, but if I had to sit in a confined place one more minute, I’d probably hurl myself out the window.
I walked into a bodega, bought myself a bottle of vodka, wrapped it in a paper bag, and started making my way home.
If I drew disapproving glares from people on the street, I didn’t notice. I was fully and completely dedicated to the part of the sloshed, cheated-on girlfriend.
My mobile rang in my purse. I dug through it while sipping my vodka, letting the hot, burning sensation coat my throat. When I tugged my phone out and saw BJ’s name on the screen—of course he’d kept his phone working this whole time—my heart didn’t even miss a beat.
How sad that I had spent weeks hoping and praying for him to call me while I thought he was in Nepal, and now all I could feel was reluctance to have an official breakup call. I declined the call. He called again.
Bloody Kieran. He must’ve told BJ that I knew. I hit the decline button again. The third time, I put my phone on silent and shoved it back into my purse. Let BJ get a taste of what it felt like to be ignored.
I didn’t know how long it took before I was in front of my building. I felt sufficiently plastered and dissolute when I tripped up the stairs. Passing by Charlie’s door, I made a mental note to check on my neighbor. I’d been so busy avoiding my new husband that I’d neglected my responsibilities. One of which was to give the lonely man some much-needed companionship.
I jabbed my key four times into its hole before I managed to unlock the door. The lights were off. The dim, bluish light of the TV danced in the darkness. I dragged my feet across the floor, hiccuping and kicking Riggs’s worn-out leather boots from my path.
So he was here. Wonderful. Splendid. Better nip that conversation in the bud.
“Duffy.” He stood up from the couch, like a pupil who’d been waiting outside the principal’s office. He looked particularly dashing, after not seeing him for a few consecutive hours straight. “Hey. I didn’t want to bother you, b—”
“Oh, bollocks!” I moaned, loudly and rather aggressively. “You just have to be gorgeous. With your bedhead and dimples and muscles and . . . and . . . lack of shoulder hair. It’s like nature didn’t get the memo you’re middle aged.”
Riggs stared at me with confusion. “Uh . . . thanks?”
“You’re fit.” I took a swig of my vodka. “And I fancy you.”
“Why are you yelling?” He frowned. I couldn’t tell for sure, but he looked a bit upset. And by a bit, I mean a lot. And by a lot, I mean IMMENSELY. His cheekbones were flushed, and his eyes were so dark they looked like an endless abyss.
“Because I’m wasted.” I laughed, feeling incredibly empty on the inside, the echo of my laughter bouncing in my lungs.
“No shit.” He gave me a slow once-over. His jaw locked. “Where’ve you been?”
“My mate’s place.”
“A boy-friend or a girl-friend?”
“A none-of-your-business friend,” I declared cheerfully. “Let’s not pretend you’re not visiting your lady friends whenever you fancy.”
“And you couldn’t send a text? Spare a phone call? ‘Hey, Riggs, by the way, I’m staying over with a friend, not dead. So don’t send a search party.’ You know, like a normal person?”
“Why didn’t you text?” I stumbled toward him, poking my finger in his chest.