Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 180510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 903(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 602(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 180510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 903(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 602(@300wpm)
“I highly doubt he saw you last night and thought, ‘There’s the love of my life. Finally, I can get a proper erection.’”
I snort, staring out my window at the congested sidewalks. It feels inappropriate given the events of the last twenty-four hours—or the last year for that matter. But I can’t help it. It feels good.
“He was hours, minutes, from promising to love you through sickness and health. You are getting better, Josie. You will continue to improve. Do you know how many times Felix has said you’re a miracle?”
I scoff. “It’s a miracle that I survived death twice. I am not miraculously using a walker. Not miraculously piecing together memories or thoughts. Not miraculously trying to find myself again. All of that is nothing short of a tragedy that could have been avoided had I just left my wedding and left this world for good. He just …” My voice fades into a whisper. “He deserves the red dress and heels.”
That strong, wide-shouldered, handsome, virile man comes to the door at three. I watch out the front window like I’m fourteen and my dad is letting me go on my first date.
“I’m proud of you for remembering our address,” Izzy says, sneaking up behind me.
“I didn’t. Colten is a detective. Felix introduced himself.”
“For someone who doesn’t feel adequate, you didn’t hesitate to pack an overnight bag.” Izzy picks up said overnight bag.
Pushing my walker toward the door, I frown. “I told you; he’s hardwired to love me. He thinks I belong with him. It’s going to take a while for him to see that I no longer fit. That I can’t give him what he deserves … what he wants even if he can’t see it clearly now.”
Izzy reaches for the door handle. “What if he can see it now?” She opens the door and smiles. “You must be Detective Mosley. You met my husband, Felix, last night. I’m Isabelle.” She holds out her hand.
Colten, in all of his sexiness, offers his hand. “Nice to meet you. Thank you for all you’ve done and are doing for Josie. I owe you a huge debt of gratitude.”
Oh, Colten …
She hands Colten my bag. “It’s been our pleasure. She’s a miraculous human, this one here.” Izzy winks at me while I maneuver my walker out the door.
“Bye, Izzy,” I clip before she can sing my praises for another second.
“See you in the morning.”
“I’ll drop her off,” Colten says. “We should talk about her therapy.”
“Absolutely,” Izzy says. “Have a good night.”
The boy who used to race me on our bikes or to my favorite tree is now waiting for me to slide into his car so he can take my walker and put it in the back of his vehicle. I’m not eighty. I’m thirty-six.
When he gets into the driver’s seat, he eyes me with a smile so big it’s almost clownish. “It’s good to see you.”
I can’t quite match his smile. This isn’t the happily ever after I dreamed of having with Colten Mosley. It’s not happy. It’s not even forever. It’s simply after. After I did something I should not have done.
“That’s my line,” I say for lack of a better response.
Colten slides his hand to the back of my head and leans over the console, not letting his smile waver for a second before pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. He hasn’t kissed me on the lips yet. Maybe he’s conflicted—as he should be if he found someone else. That’s not true. He shouldn’t be conflicted. He should simply choose her.
I died. I should have stayed dead.
“Stop,” he says, fastening his seat belt and backing out of the driveway.
“Stop what?”
“Thinking whatever you’re thinking that’s feeding your self-doubt.”
“I’m not doubting myself.” I stare at my hands folded in my lap. “I have no doubt that I made a mistake. I have no doubt that I shouldn’t be here. I have no doubt that I may never be mentally or physically normal again.”
“Josie …” He rests his hand on mine.
I can’t look at him. He symbolizes everything I will never be. It’s a more debilitating pain than reteaching my body to function properly again.
When we get to his house, I shake my head over and over. “No. Stop. Why did you tell them? I’m not ready.” Panic overtakes my whole body, shocking my heart into an irregular rhythm.
My parents’ car is in his driveway.
“I didn’t tell them. I asked them to come today. It was a big ask with no explanation. They did it for me.”
My head continues to shake. “You had no right. I said I’d tell them on my own time.”
He kills the engine, gets out of the car, and comes around to my side. As soon as he opens the door, he rests his arms on the roof and sighs slowly while closing his eyes for a brief moment. “If it were Reagan, I’d want to know. If you were my daughter, I’d want to know without hesitation. I’d have a hard time forgiving anyone and everyone who kept it from me. Josie, we all lived through your tragedy. We’ve been grieving you for months. It’s cruel to let them grieve for another day … for another second.”