Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“You couldn’t have given me this a year ago?” she asks. “Or at some other point in the past fifteen years?”
“I wish I could have.”
“I don’t think you understand how awful the past year has been for me.” Her voice breaks, marking the first time I’ve ever seen her on the verge of tears in my presence. “The way you’ve slighted me, cast me off, treated me like an obligation, faked your kindness … the damage has been done.” Marching closer, she shoves her finger against my chest. “The night before our wedding, you told me you could never love me.”
“Yes, I said that. But I didn’t mean it. I wanted to give you an out. It seemed like the right thing to do after the way I’d treated you.”
“How can I ever believe anything you say again?” A handful of tears slide down her cheeks, but she swipes them away. “You’re heartless.”
I deserve that.
“I’m complicated,” I say. “This whole thing is … complicated.”
“Complicated? Our entire relationship, or the lack of it, is a twisted web you spun, Slade. It’s only complicated because you made it that way. Now you want to hide behind prose and feigned vulnerability.”
“There are parts of me that are broken, and I’ve not been kind to you because of that. I was hoping we could work together—”
She claps her arms against her sides. “So now it’s my problem to fix?”
“I don’t want you to fix me. I don’t need you to either. I’m just telling you I’m aware of the problem and how it has affected you. I’m apologizing. I’m trying to make this right … if it’s not too late.”
“Then why did you tell me you couldn’t love me?” Her expression is laser tight, angered. The air between us is thick with tension, impossible to breathe. “Why would you want to give me an out when you were falling for me?”
“Because deep down, I know I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve any of what I have.”
She rolls her eyes. “I just … one hell of an actor. And there’s no denying you can be persuasive. I have no way of knowing what’s real and what’s not with you given everything …”
“Every word in that journal is raw. Real. Every emotion. Every regret.” There’s no denying the evolution of my handwriting and vernacular, but now is not the time to point out minor details. I want to focus on the big picture here—us.
Our future.
Campbell sniffs and massages her neck, staring at the floor. “Okay, so now that you’ve had your little change of heart, what’s the game plan now?”
Her voice is laced with a hint of sarcasm, but her question is sincere.
“This isn’t a game and there’s no plan,” I tell her. “We have to figure this out together.”
“I don’t know, Slade.” Tipping her chin, she exhales. “You should have given me that journal years ago. Maybe, just maybe we’d have stood a chance at being truly happy together. Now we’ll never know.”
Our faces are mere inches apart now, the distance between us fueled by hurt, anger, and the undeniable magnetism I’ve always foolishly ignored. As tears continue to stream down her face, I’m tempted to swipe them away but I think better of it.
We’re not there yet.
And who knows if we’ll ever be there.
“I want the drowning kind of love. The can’t-sleep-can’t-eat-until-I-see-you-again kind of love. I want a love that stirs my soul and consumes my dreams. I want a love that’s bigger than the ever-expanding universe,” she says. “I’m sorry, Slade, but you will never be any of that for me.”
Her words, perhaps intended to cut me deep, only serve as a challenge—a challenge I’m ready and willing to accept if it means showing her how very fucking wrong she’s going to be about me.
As we linger in stifled silence, her mouth pressed firm and her gorgeous glassy gaze filled with pain, I can’t hold back another second. Pulling her to me, I cup her face and crash my lips onto hers. To my surprise, she doesn’t push me away, not at first.
“You think one kiss will erase all of this?” she asks as she searches my face, her lips swollen from the greed of my kiss.
“No, but I think it’s a pretty damn good start.” I pull her into my arms again and claim her full lips once more. This time she melts against me, lifting on her toes as her fingers trail through the hair at the nape of my neck.
“I hate that I love the way you kiss me,” her words are breathless as we come up for air. The storm of emotions exploding between us is tumultuous, messy, unpredictable, but there’s no denying they’re real. “I hate that I’m letting you do this.”
“I’ll stop if you want me to.”