Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Now I felt bad for letting her think that. “No. You’re the best thing in my life, baby.”
She looked up at my comment, her eyes filling with emotion like that meant the world to her. “I was afraid I came on a little strong with some of the things I said. I didn’t want to scare you off.”
“The things you said?” I grabbed my mug and held it by the handle.
“You know…wanting to be with you forever and stuff like that. I know guys don’t like to hear that too quickly, and I kinda just puked word vomit on you of all my emotions.”
“Why would I not want to hear how much you love me and how you never want to lose me? Why would I not want to hear that you want to be with me forever? That I’m the best thing that ever happened to you? It’s flattering, baby.”
Her eyes softened and she just stared at me, absolutely still, like she couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth.
In my last relationship, she didn’t appreciate me. She pissed me away like I meant nothing to her. When I asked her to marry me, I really loved her with my whole heart, and she said yes. But it wasn’t genuine. If it were, she wouldn’t have fucked my best friend. Not only did she not care about me on a romantic level, but she didn’t care about me as a friend either…to destroy my relationship with my best friend. It was nice to be with a woman who showed me how much she cared about me every single day, who told me how much she cared about me, who let the tears fall from her eyes because the love she had for me was so paramount. “It doesn’t bother me. I don’t play games, and neither do you. I like that. I like feeling appreciated. I like knowing the woman I’ve given my heart to values me, that she would never gamble my love, that she’s absolutely committed and just the thought of losing me makes her lose her mind.”
She continued to stare at me, speechless.
“And I hope that I make you feel just as valued and appreciated, that I would never gamble what we have, that this relationship is my priority, and I would do everything and anything to keep it.”
Lizzie and I worked together every Tuesday and Thursday, and she continued to impress me with her ability. Now that she believed in herself, she was getting better and better. When we moved on to a new section, no matter how challenging it was, she was ready for it. There was no doubt in her mind she could grasp it.
It was nice to see.
When she came over on Thursday, she was a bit distracted.
In all fairness, I was distracted too, thinking about what I had to do tomorrow.
Her eyes were down most of the time, she didn’t pay attention to what I said, and her mind seemed to be elsewhere.
I waited for her to snap out of it on her, but she never did. “Lizzie?”
She looked at me, still subdued.
“Is there something bothering you?”
She turned back to her notebook and made a few marks on the paper with her pencil, little doodles of dots and scribbles.
I asked my question and let the silence pass, respecting the pause because I needed to take longer pauses than anyone else. Sometimes it took time for me to gather my thoughts, to understand how I felt about something before I commented.
She put down her pencil then turned to me. “You love my mom?”
I stilled at the question, my eyes glued to hers and unblinking, shocked that she’d asked me that. A million different scenarios of a response ran through my head of what my answer should be, but I didn’t know if any of them were the right choice.
She was quiet as she waited for my reply, holding her ground and silently demanding an answer.
Why would she ask that? It was a very specific question, like she knew something. She heard Emerson talk to her mom about me, looked through her mother’s phone and found text messages, something like that.
“Derek?”
If she had heard something, why would she confront me instead of her mother? “Why do you ask, Lizzie?”
“Does it matter?” she asked. “Just answer the question.” Her fiery attitude started to light up, the version of her that I’d seen with her mother. She didn’t take any nonsense, was blunt, and demanded what she deserved.
I sighed as I looked down at the table, knowing I had to be honest. We’d intended to tell her anyway, and she clearly knew something, so I threw caution to the wind and did it. I turned back to her. “Yes.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“I love her very much.” I inhaled a deep breath once the truth left my lips, when it was out into the open for her daughter to hear.