Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Impossible not to blush. “I enjoyed it.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that.” She stops in front of me and narrows her eyes. “You’ve lost weight. I can see that even without measuring you again. You’re not taking care of yourself.”
“It’s been a rough couple of months.” The understatement of the century.
Tink winces. “Right. I’m sorry. My condolences on the loss of your father.”
I never know what to say to people who offer their condolences or apologies. No amount of words in any combination will bring him back or lessen the pain of losing him. Nothing can combat the gaping hole in my chest, though being with Beast and Gaeton helps distract me. Without their presence in the apartment, the darkness nips at my edges, tearing away bits of my armor and what little peace I found in the arms of the two men I love.
I clear my throat. “Thanks.”
If Tink sees the way I blink too often to avoid the wetness in my eyes overflowing, she chooses to ignore it. Instead, she turns to the garment bags and unzips them one by one. “I grabbed everything I have ready. We’ll get you a few options to work with, and when I’m done, you’ll look amazing enough that no one will wonder how you’re feeling.”
She gets it. Somehow, she understands. I manage to smile past the burning in my throat. “Thank you.” This time, I truly mean it.
Chapter 18
Gaeton
We hunt down every single item on Tink’s list. Like she said, it takes longer than I expect. The woman was mighty specific when it comes to cosmetics and all the products that apparently go into the upkeep of hair and body and, fuck, I’m exhausted just thinking about it. It’s also pricey as hell.
Through it all, Beast and I don’t talk much. His head is obviously a million miles away, and I’m still wrapped up in a whole lot of conflict. It’s not until we’re on our way back to the apartment that I finally put the feeling into words. “Are we doing the right thing?”
“There is no such thing as ‘right.’ Not in our world.” Beast shifts the bags around on his wrist. “We’re not the heroes. Pretending otherwise is enough to get people killed.”
I shoot him the look that statement deserves. “Someone’s feeling melodramatic.”
“Sorry, am I stepping on your toes? I know you’re the drama queen of the trio.”
I bristle, ready to snap back, but stop when I catch a faint smile curving his lips. I frown. “You’re fucking with me.”
“I’m fucking with you,” he says. He gives that rasping chuckle that I’m starting to like so much. “There will be plenty of time for serious shit and overthinking. Try to relax. We got this.”
“Do we? Do we really?” I narrow my eyes. “You didn’t answer my question. Are we doing the right thing?”
Beast slows and stops in front of my apartment building, finally turning to give me his full attention. “I don’t know if we’re doing the right thing. I don’t think there is a ‘right thing’ in this scenario. There’s only what we want.” He stands there, steady and oh so serious. “I don’t give a fuck about right. I don’t want to stop. Do you?”
“No, I don’t want to stop.” As much as the last two days have hurt, it’s a sweet sort of pain. It almost feels like this experience might actually lance the festering wound of losing Isabelle the first time. Something I never thought possible.
Then again, I can’t see how losing her a second time won’t make everything worse. It almost killed me to walk away from her before. Doing it again…
Not to mention my feelings for Beast are hardly cut and dried. The more we smudge the lines, the more I see that maybe they never were. Rage and lust can be two sides to the same coin, just like hate and love. Maybe I was never able to admit that before, but I can now.
It’s funny, though I don’t feel much like laughing, but the one thing I couldn’t have anticipated when I agreed to this was that I might miss Beast. No matter what else happens, when this is all over, I’ll never be able to look at him again without thinking about how good he tastes, about how good he made me feel when we were together.
It might feel good now, but that’s just setting us all up for a bigger fall at the end. “There is no happy ending when this is over.”
“Are you so sure?” He starts walking before I can divine what the fuck he means, moving fast enough that I have to hustle to make it to the elevator despite his shorter legs.
I glare at him in the mirrored doors as they slide shut. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The question doesn’t come out as sharp as I intend it. No, I sound like I’m asking him to reassure me.