Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
God … it’s always been him.
Colten’s Josie is kind. Colten’s Josie wouldn’t harm anyone. Colten’s Josie is confident and smart. Colten’s Josie doesn’t run from fear. I like Colten’s Josie.
As if the spinning thoughts in my head are making actual sounds, Colten blinks open his eyes.
“I’m going to need help because self-doubt is a pernicious bitch. Your job is to get me there. Get the job done. And remind me every day that I’m your Artemis. Okay?”
Colten blinks slowly. “What did I miss?” he asks in a sleepy voice. “Get you where? Get what job done?”
“Get me to the altar. Make sure I’m wearing white, but I don’t look ridiculous. Don’t take no for an answer. Then just … hold on to me.”
It takes a few seconds for things to register, but when they do, his grin swells, engulfing his entire face.
It’s a glorious smile. Spectacular. Just like him.
I give him my best smile as well, but it hurts. Everything inside my chest hurts. It hurts to stay. It hurts to walk away. Life hurts. I just think it could hurt a little less with Colten in it. And … I hurt because I’m scared out of my mind that this is a terrible idea. But … he trusts me. And … I trust him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Want to talk about it?” Dr. Cornwell asks when I arrive in the conference room.
“About?” I fill a cup with coffee while everyone else takes a seat at the table.
Dr. Cornwell pours a generous dose of creamer into his coffee. “You took a personal day yesterday.”
“And?”
“It’s your first personal day.”
I smile. “Well, that’s not true. I took a lot of days off after I died.”
Stirring his coffee, he eyes me. I half expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t. Not even a smile. “I can only imagine what you must be going through. Has it gotten any better?”
Better? He thinks I believe I was a young girl murdered by Winston Jeffries. I can only imagine what he would think if he knew the truth.
The truth …
Is it true?
Truth is ascribed to things representing reality. I’ve never felt so out of touch with reality. How could I possibly know what’s true?
“I’m getting married.” That’s my brilliant answer. If I just believe hard enough, marrying the boy I’ve loved for as long as I can remember might be the answer to … something.
Dr. Cornwell’s bushy, gray eyebrows jump up his forehead. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”
Gotta hand it to Alicia, she keeps our talks a secret.
“Colten Mosley.”
Those bushy brows take a dive into a sharp V of confusion.
“Detective Mosley.”
“Oh. How am I just now hearing about this?”
“The engagement?”
“All of it. I had no idea he was courting you.”
For a second time, he makes me smile. It feels like something a normal human would do. I’ve never felt perfectly normal, but it was far better than not feeling human.
“How long has this courting been taking place?”
I chuckle. Now he’s doing it to get a reaction from me. “Since we were nine.”
“Oh good lord … that’s some stamina.”
I can’t help myself. “Yes. Colten has a lot of stamina.” I smirk.
Dr. Cornwell glances down at his coffee mug; then his gaze jumps back up to mine. He just got it. “Well…” he clears his throat, and I swear he’s blushing a bit “…I suppose congratulations are in order.”
“Thanks.” I really need to call my parents. They should have found out before my boss. I glance past him to the rest of the MEs at the table. “Can we keep it between us for a few days? I haven’t told all of my family.”
Any. I haven’t told anyone.
He makes a lock and key motion at his lips.
I take a seat at the table, and Dr. Cornwell introduces the cases for the day. He only gets a few words in before the most cringe-worthy sound blasts from my phone at full volume.
First, I silence my phone in the morning before I shower.
Second, I don’t have songs for ringtones.
Third, I’m going to kill Colten.
It’s his name on my screen with a goofy picture of his face, like a mug shot, that I did not take. And he has the ringtone set to The Dixie Cups’ “Chapel of Love.”
Fumbling with my phone, I mute the call and send it to voicemail.
“I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.” Cornwell grins.
Heat fills my cheeks, all eyes on me … the blushing bride.
As an early wedding gift, Cornwell gives me the five-year-old girl who was found dead in her family’s swimming pool. He leads the students around the autopsy suite, spending extra time at my table. I ignore the look in his eyes, the test he’s given me.
Am I okay with a drowning victim?
Am I okay with a young girl?
Am I okay?
“What is the mechanism in acute drownings?” Cornwell asks.