Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Sometimes our hearts don’t communicate with our heads.”
“Hearts are dumb,” I said angrily.
We sat in silence for a moment, watching the snow grow a little thicker. “So what now?” she asked.
“We’re meeting in Chicago next weekend.”
“You are?” She sounded surprised.
I remembered Zach’s words the night he showed up at my house after telling me he couldn’t see me again. “Believe me, Felicity, if I could stay away from him, I would.”
“But isn’t it just going to make it harder to end things if you keep seeing him like that? Why torture yourself?”
I sniffed as my eyes welled again, then picked up my coffee. “Like I said. Hearts are dumb.”
CHAPTER 21
ZACH
We didn’t have the talk.
We spent the entire weekend she visited me in Chicago hiding out in my hotel room, steaming up the windows while the wind howled and the temperature dropped and the snow swirled around in the streets below. In fact, the blizzard was so bad, she stayed in Chicago an extra night—she’d driven down to the city, and I didn’t want her on the roads until the plows had cleared the snow from the highway.
Which meant I had a whole extra day to bring up calling it quits, and I still didn’t do it.
We talked about plenty of other things . . . our childhoods, our favorite songs and movies, our biggest regrets and accomplishments, our greatest fears.
“Snakes,” she said with a laugh. “Definitely snakes. But spiders are up there too. Really any bugs. That’s why I’m never going to Japan.”
“Japan?”
“Yes! I read that country has the worst bugs in the world. There’s some kind of giant centipede that sounds terrifying, and also a giant hornet that has flesh-melting venom.”
I laughed. “Are you making this up?”
“No! I read about it.”
“Well, I’ve been to Japan, and I’ve never seen those things.”
“Consider yourself lucky.” She picked up her head from my chest and looked at me. “So what’s your biggest fear? I assume it’s not bugs.”
“It’s not bugs.”
She poked my chest. “Tell me.”
I played with her hair, threading my fingers into it and slowly combing through the thick, gold strands. “I’ve always had the same fear since I was a kid.”
“What is it?”
“Someone dying on my watch.”
She didn’t say anything. She just put her head on my chest again and wrapped an arm and leg over me. But I didn’t need words from her. What she was giving me was far better—her trust.
Maybe she hated giant bugs, but she’d once told me without even realizing it what her greatest fear was. I want him to need me, she’d said. I never want to be scared he’ll leave.
I kissed the top of her head and held her tight.
Maybe tomorrow we’d end things.
Of course, we didn’t.
There were moments of silence between us, times when we were just lying next to each other, or eating room service, or hiding at a corner table in the hotel bar our last night there, hoping no one we knew would wander in. During those moments I knew in my gut I should bring up what had to happen next. But I never did it. I couldn’t bring myself to ruin the mood or take the smile from her face.
And the next morning, she woke up with a cold—her nose pink and stuffy, her eyes bloodshot, her voice hoarse. She must have sneezed fifteen times inside two minutes.
“Maybe you shouldn’t leave today,” I told her as she blew her nose again.
“I have to,” she said, sounding miserably congested. Already, her poor nose was red and raw. “I have dresses being delivered in the morning.”
I frowned. “I’m going to run down the street to the pharmacy to get you some cold medicine.”
“Zach, it’s okay. I’m fine.”
“Hush.” I shrugged into my coat. “Don’t leave until I get back. That’s an order.”
Half an hour later, after she’d dutifully taken the meds I’d brought back, I walked her down to the lobby. I even held her hand.
“Someone might see us,” she whispered in the elevator.
“I don’t care,” I said. I gave the valet her ticket and waited with her while her car was brought around. Then I cradled her face in my hands. “Drive carefully. If you get drowsy, you pull over, okay? And let me know when you get home.”
“I will.” She tried to smile. “Have a safe flight.”
I frowned again—this was not sitting right with me. “I wish I could take you back myself.”
“You can’t.”
I exhaled through my nose and studied her face, more pale than usual, her brown eyes tired. My heart was in a vise. “Fuck it. I’m driving you.”
“What?”
“Give me ten minutes. I’ll tell the valet to hold your car here.”
“Zach, this is crazy! You cannot drive me home!”
I was already heading for the elevator. “Ten minutes!” I yelled back at her. “Don’t move.”
“Okay. But don’t look at my car!”