Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
The guys exchange a look.
“Doesn’t sound like you believe that, bro,” Ford says cautiously. “You sure your, uh, more intimate relationship with Fiona hasn’t gotten more serious than you realized?”
I don’t look at him. I’m busy thinking about my life without Fiona. Without her laugh, without her taste. Without her sleepy smiles in the morning, or her tough wit in the afternoons.
A cold and lonely world. Back to the empty life I used to live.
Back to the way things were meant to be.
“It’ll be fine,” I say without much weight behind it. “We’ll be totally fine.”
Though I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince.
Chapter 38
Fiona
I stand outside of a chic office building in downtown Dallas, willing myself not to sweat as I hide in the shade. I’m in an outfit Gareth bought me for this occasion—all designer, all absurdly expensive, but too flattering not to wear. The garment bag appeared on the back of my door yesterday, and while I was tempted to throw it back in his face, I have to admit that it was an incredibly sweet gesture.
And says a lot about how well he knows me. Considering everything fits like it was tailored to my body.
Also, I look great. That helps.
I’m nervous. I want to march in there, head held high, ready to live up to Gareth’s expectations and nail this interview. He offered to do some mock practice sessions, but I told him no thanks. I figured I’d only end up crying if we did that, and besides, I already sat through one interview with him already. That’s more than enough for a lifetime.
Now that I’m here, I’m tempted to turn around and go back to the apartment.
I don’t have to go in that building. If I really want to move to Boston with Gareth, then I can move to Boston with Gareth. There’s no rule saying I need to take this interview.
Only I don’t know how I’d look myself in the mirror if I refused.
Gareth’s right—this is a dream job. It’s the sort of job that shows up once in a lifetime, if that, and it’s my opportunity to break into the outdoor gear industry. This job might not be my job for life, but it’s a first step in a fulfilling career.
If that’s what I want.
I can do this. Gareth says there’s no way I’ll screw it up, Cait gave me a good pep talk, and even Janine called to wish me good luck a half hour ago. I tilt my chin up, getting myself psyched and prepped.
I’m smart. I’m strong. If I can pretend to be Gareth’s wife in front of a bunch of violent gangsters, I can sit down across from the HR person in that office building, smile my ass off, and impress the hell out of them.
This is by far the least dangerous thing I’ve done lately.
And I’m still nervous.
When I finally work up the courage to head inside, running about fifteen minutes early, my phone rings. I hesitate, but pull it out, thinking it might be Gareth calling to wish me luck.
Instead, it’s my mom.
I answer out of sheer surprise. I haven’t heard from her since she left for Paris what feels like forever ago. “Hello?”
“Honey!” Mom sounds chipper. “How are you?”
“I’m good. How’s Paris?”
She hesitates. “Paris? Oh, Paris! That’s right.” She laughs awkwardly. “Well, Paris was good. We were there for a couple days. Then it was Prague, Berlin, Madrid, Amsterdam. Now we’re in Rome, but I’m thinking we’ll go to Tunisia for a while, maybe out to Turkey, explore around there. Depends on what Michael and Mavis want. They’re the ones with the plane.”
“Michael and Mavis are the other two people in your quadrople?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
“Yes!” She laughs, high-pitched and awkward. I hear the clink of a glass in the background, the glug of something pouring. “Oh, honey, I should’ve called sooner, I’m so sorry. We’ve just been busy. Honestly, these last few weeks have been the best of my life. I should’ve done this sooner.”
I grind my jaw, glaring at the ground. The best of her life. Should’ve done this sooner.
Should’ve taken my college fund and disappeared with my father, abandoning me in Dallas with a mountain of debt.
Should’ve skipped out of America for Europe right as my apartment burned to the ground.
Should’ve forgotten to call me.
“I’m fine, by the way,” I say, trying to keep the acid from my tone, but failing.
“That’s good, hon,” she says with a dreamy sigh. “Listen, let me tell you about Rome. So last night—”
“Mom,” I say, cutting her off. “You remember that my apartment burned down, right? You promised me fifty bucks, but only sent half?”
She’s quiet for a second. “Oh, shit. With everything going on—”
“Right, you forgot, I get it. Well, guess what? I got married.” I shouldn’t tell her this, but suddenly I want to throw it in her face. “I met a man and we’re married now. You didn’t know that, did you? Because you don’t know a thing about me. You and Dad took my college money—”