Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
“I can’t answer that,” my mother says. “But in your heart, I think you can. If that means taking a step back, do it, but don’t step too far. You might not find your way back to him.”
Cole
I leave Lori’s place, go to the hospital, bribe a few people, and despite the late hour, manage to get the Havens’ bill paid off before I depart; an anonymous gift, of course. Because I’m not leaving her in that cracker box. Just knowing I took care of it takes some of the edge off, but my nerves are jumping and I fight the need to go back to Lori’s place and bring her home with me where she belongs.
I walk into my apartment that is empty without Lori. No laughter. No soft sweet voice. No her, naked in my arms. I don’t know how this night went this wrong, but it was a shit-show the size of a volcanic eruption. My cell phone rings and I glance down to find Ashley’s number. I don’t answer. I’ve already talked to her two times since leaving the restaurant. The only person I want to talk to is Lori.
I peel off my jacket and tie, and walk to the bar, grab a glass for whiskey and decide I need ice or I’m going to drink way too fucking fast. I head to the kitchen and of course, the damn ice machine isn’t working. I open the freezer that I never open, and stare at the cash sitting next to the ice tray. I grab it and count five thousand dollars. This is how much she doesn’t trust me. If she did, she wouldn’t be so damn afraid of leaning on me. Of needing me. And what did I do? Paid off the rest of her debt.
I throw the damn money in the trashcan and walk to the bar and fill my glass, sans the ice. I asked her to move in with me. Now, she wants space. I down my drink and have another. I asked her to move in with me. I stare at my cell phone that remains silent. “She needs space,” I murmur. Fuck. I toss the phone on the couch, fighting every urge in me to go to her again. I keep pushing her and she steps back. And back, and so fucking far back that I’m in another room where she clearly wants me to stay.
And isn’t that the point? Me, trying to give her what she wants. I’ve obviously not been listening to what she’s been telling me. Now she has spoken. Space is what she wants. Space is what I will give her. Now she’ll be happy. I listened.
Chapter forty-nine
Lori
After a night of lying awake thinking about Cole and everything my mother said, I decide I need to talk to him. I’m pissed at him for ignoring my request, but I know in my heart, he came to me because he cares. And I don’t want to push him away. I just need to be sure this is real, and I don’t know how to do that, but it’s not without him.
When I arrive at work, I barely sit down at my desk, when Cole buzzes through my intercom. “My office,” he orders, his tone sharp, crisp, professional.
My stomach clenches with nerves I shouldn’t feel with Cole, but I do. I stand, straightening the basic black skirt that I’m wearing with yet another basic black blouse, that all feels more basic today than other days, when suddenly Ashley is in my doorway. “I’m a bitch. I’m such a bitch. I was a wreck last night and I have no excuse for my behavior. It’s not me. I promise. Please forgive me.”
“You’re forgiven,” I say, that embarrassment of last night oddly not here now. “Let’s forget it.”
“You know there is nothing between me and Cole, right?”
“Yes, and can we please not have this conversation here?”
“Right. I’m sorry. Just—based on Cole’s mood—”
“Lori,” Cole says over the intercom. “Are you coming?”
“On my way,” I reply, and Ashley shakes her head. “That mood. He’s never like this.”
“Yes, well,” I say, “we’re making it worse, huddled in here.”
“Right again,” she says, and we both make a path toward Cole’s office.
“Good luck,” Ashley says, before claiming her seat behind her desk while I open Cole’s door and walk inside. He’s standing, every inch of him perfection in a blue three-piece suit. He glances up at me and starts shoving files in his briefcase. “One of the junior partners under Reese fucked up a case to the point of fucked up being fucked up. As in, he left evidence off documents that he knew existed.”
“Isn’t that grounds to be disbarred?” I ask, stopping in front of his desk.
“Yes. Exactly. It’s also a black mark against our firm. Reese is in court today. I have to go to the courthouse to meet with the judge and convince him that me taking over fixes the problem.”