Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Wait.” He grabs my hand. “Did you get my voicemail this morning?”
“I did.”
“Do you plan on giving me an answer?” he asks. “Whatever I did, whatever happened, let me fix it so things can go back to how they used to be.”
“I can’t be with you anymore,” I say the words I’ve held back on saying forever, feeling an ugly ache in my chest with every syllable. “I just can’t.”
“We can at least be friends.” He cups my face in his hands and softly kisses my lips, driving my heart down a road it knows all too well. A painful dead-end.
“Just friends,” he whispers against my mouth. “You can at least give me that.”
“Friends can’t kiss each other, Travis.”
“We can, and tonight we should discuss how things will work out moving forward.”
Despite my heart begging me to stop doing this to him—to us, I shake my head.
“Friends don’t make long-term plans and promises to each other either,” I say. “That’s not how it works.”
“Then we’ll need to call what we have something else. This time, let’s pretend that—”
“No.” I push his hands away before he can finish. “My heart can’t take this anymore.”
“Take what?” He looks into my eyes. “If you don’t love me anymore, or if you’ve found someone else, just fucking say it.”
“It’s not that.”
“It feels like it.”
“Doctor Frayser to the O.R., please!” A voice comes over the speaker system. “Doctor Frayser to the O.R., please!”
“Look, Travis.” Tears prick my eyes as he grips my waist. “I think it’s best if we go our separate ways and pretend like we never met.”
The hopeful look in his eyes fades.
“Penelope needs all your attention now, and it’d be foolish for you to focus on anyone else for a single second. Besides, I need to work on myself and now isn’t a good time.”
“So, you’re going with the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ approach?” he asks.
“No. Stop acting like—”
“I fucking love you?” He hisses. “Like that?”
“Like this wasn’t always bound to come to an end.” I choke. “We can’t be right now. It’s not our time, but if we’re meant to be…”
He tightens his grip on my waist and pulls me closer, as if he's waiting for me to finish that sentence, to serve some soothing hope.
The words never come.
Finger by finger, he loosens his hold on me.
“I’ve never wanted someone as much as I wanted you,” he says. “And I never will.”
“You don’t know that yet.”
“I do.” He walks away without another word, carrying bits and pieces of my broken heart with him.
I want to follow and tell him I’m making a huge mistake, but I don’t.
I leave the hospital and force myself to quit him cold turkey.
No Google searches.
No article reads.
No sports channels.
Travis Carter doesn’t exist.
He never did.
FORTY-TWO
PRESENT DAY
TRAVIS
The following afternoon
Las Vegas, Nevada
The words “Will Travis Carter Avenge His Loss?” stared at me from a giant screen in a Tom Ford fitting room, but my fight was the last thing on my mind.
I can’t believe Tatiana left Vegas without telling me goodbye…
A tailor measured my wrists for the umpteenth time while others discussed the day’s events.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“I specifically said no visitors until I’m finished.” The tailor groaned. “I was promised a full private session.”
“It’s probably Mr. Carter’s handler,” someone said. “That’s the only way he could’ve gotten past security.”
“Fine then.” He waved at the doorman. “Let him in, please.”
I glanced at the door, expecting to see Ralph, but it was Madeline.
"Yes, Miss Dawson?” I asked.
"Fuck you."
The room instantly fell silent.
“Yes, I said that and I meant every word.” Her voice cracked. “Fuck. You. Travis.”
“I need everyone except Miss Dawson to leave,” I said. “Now.”
The staff disappeared within seconds, leaving rustling papers in their wake. The tailor left a pin stuck in my skin.
“I’m assuming that you’re having some type of mental crisis,” I said. “Otherwise, we have a problem.”
"You gave me a terrible reference." Tears fell from her eyes. “I know I embellished my resume, but was I that terrible of a publicist for you? Did I fail your brand that miserably?"
“No, Madeline."
"The first company literally said, ‘We don't feel comfortable hiring you, due to what Mr. Carter told us.’ The second company didn’t give me any reason. They simply said, ‘You should talk to Mr. Carter,’ i.e., you screwed me over.”
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“Oh, I’m sure it wasn’t.” She hissed. “You're letting me go after your big fight anyway, so I don’t understand how you could do this to me.”
“Because I tend to be a very selfish person when it comes to certain things in my life.”
“This is beyond selfish, more selfish than what you did to Tatiana.” She scoffed. "So, if you don't mind, when my next potential client calls—”
"I'd like to keep you on my staff and let you run the PR for my other companies as well,” I said. "I told every CEO who asked for a reference that they were wasting their time because I was willing to double whatever they offered you. I’m not the sharing type and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you."