Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Too late. I’m already long gone for this man.
His lips appreciate every millimeter of my mouth as he slides to the side and kisses each corner as well. Tipping his healed head against mine, he whispers, “Come to Seattle with me.”
I smile, but it takes too much effort to hold on to after recovering from what we just did. “What do you mean, come to Seattle?”
His hands return to my face, the scent of our desire still mingling in the air. “We leave on Wednesday for Seattle. The show’s on Thursday. I want you there. I want to see you watching me perform. I want to fuck you backstage. I want nights with you in my bed. Making love, watching movies, ordering food to be delivered. I want that with you, Cat.”
The image is so clear that I can see it as well. I feel that same need to be with him. “Sounds like a dream.” But it’s not rational.
The blue of his eyes is electric, like we are together. His smile so big that I can’t stop smiling for him. “It will be. I promise. I’ll get the biggest suite they have and treat you to—”
“It sounds like a dream because it is.” I steady myself after readjusting to stand on my own two feet. I cup his face, running the tips of my fingers over the sharper scruff of a few days’ worth of growth. “I work next week and only have a few vacation days left because of the house issue.”
Handing me the towel, he leaves too much space to dry off when he moves toward the door. I already miss his warmth. He stops across the small bathroom. “You won’t come to Seattle, not even for me?”
“I can’t. I’m sorry. Not next week.”
“I need you with me.” The admission makes me pause. What does he want me to do? Quit? Not possible.
“I need to work.”
Looking past me, he stares at something over my head as if in disbelief. When his gaze meets mine again, he asks, “So you won’t go? Not even for me?”
“I can’t.”
“You won’t. There’s a difference.”
“You’re twisting my words to fit a narrative you seem set on creating. I would go if I could, Shane. I can’t because I don’t have the time off earned this year. Those days were spent trying to buy a house and finding out I’m married.”
“We are married. To each other.”
“You say that like I don’t know.” Dumbfounded by a fight that sprouted from nowhere, I say, “A piece of paper doesn’t change anything. We didn’t get married because we wanted to. It’s only a mis—”
“Don’t say it.”
I secure the towel on my chest and cautiously walk closer to him. “You’re not being fair. You can’t toss our marriage around like we ever exchanged vows. We didn’t. We didn’t choose each other. The state did.” We stand at an impasse, righteous in our own minds.
He steps away, letting cold air breeze between us, covering me in goose bumps. I say, “I added a new retirement home this week to my already busy portfolio. I’m sorry, babe. It’s just not a good time.”
“Fuck the job and just be with me.” The sincerity in his voice and the plea to his tone have me wanting to comfort him in ways I don’t think he’ll let me. He only wants a yes because that’s all he ever hears.
But I can’t give it to him. Not this time. “I love what I do. I love the routine, the patients, and even the bad food they serve in the homes.”
“You love beige. You love boring—”
“I love my life and did before you re-entered it like a storm on a mission to destroy it.”
A visible change starts with his expression, hardening until it’s not the same as Shane’s usual handsome face. “You love your career, but you don’t love me.” Pain and anger merge in his eyes, his breathing coming hard. “Or not enough to sacrifice it.”
“How can you say that when we haven’t even said the words to each other?”
The fight leaves his body, his shoulders lowering with his tone when he says, “Because we felt it. I know you did, too.”
He’s right. I did feel it. I do feel it . . . I love him, and he’s destroying everything in his path. He warned me he would. I can’t let him. I can’t let him destroy me. “Please,” I whisper, another wave of the tears I thought I had cried returning to drown me this time. “Shane, please. We can talk instead of shout—”
“This was a mistake.”
“You coming to see me wasn’t a mistake.”
His walls rise as if triggered by a thief who broke in to steal his heart. He stares at me with blue eyes iced over. “That’s not what I was referring to.”