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)
I click on the other untitled document.
It was the dirty stories I’d written about her.
And then I realized what had happened.
I wrote my darkest and most private thoughts…and shared it with her the entire time. It was popping up on her computer, and she read it. Clearly, I hadn’t intended to share the stories with her. Otherwise, I would have mentioned it—and she never mentioned it.
It was a huge breach of privacy.
I had at least fifty pages here, and she’d read them all.
This whole fucking time, she knew. She knew how I felt about her.
I remembered when she got on her knees in my living room and sucked me off just like in one of my stories. She even told me to fuck her mouth, exactly as I had written. She used my fantasies to please me, so her actions weren’t genuine.
I felt violated, embarrassed, stupid.
I continued to stare at the document but didn’t read it. I was paralyzed, overwhelmed by the information that had just smacked me in the face.
Footsteps sounded behind me. “Everything okay?”
My hand immediately closed the laptop so she couldn’t see what was open on my screen. I’d never hid my screen from her before, but the movement was an impulse. She couldn’t see my face, so I continued to sit there as I considered a response. “Yes, just couldn’t sleep.” I was angry, but I didn’t tell her I was angry. I didn’t know why I kept it from her. I didn’t know if it was because I was embarrassed, or if I just didn’t know how I felt about it yet.
“When Lizzie can’t sleep, a glass of milk usually helps.”
I didn’t like milk. “I’ll come back in a few minutes.”
She turned around and walked back to the bedroom.
I returned to staring at the opposite wall…and feeling nothing.
28
Emerson
I picked up his outfit for the wedding then placed it in his closet. The rehearsal was on Friday, and the wedding was on Saturday. As far as I knew, he was still bringing me as his date. Derek had remained cold and distant all week, but he’d finally gone back to work. He didn’t say much to Pierre and Jerome. Just kept his head down and worked.
I didn’t like it when Derek was this way, but I didn’t want to push him. His mind was never present when we were together and we hadn’t had sex in weeks, but I still didn’t pressure him or question him.
This was just something I’d have to accept. When Derek was in a dark place, this was his reaction. I loved him enough to wait for him to come back, to be understanding rather than impatient.
He rarely gave me affection. He hardly kissed me. And he hadn’t told me he loved me in a while. He stopped tutoring Lizzie because he was too distracted, and Lizzie understood he just needed time. The semester was pretty much over, so it didn’t really matter at this point anyway.
At the end of the workday, I joined him at the table.
He kept his head down and didn’t acknowledge me.
We never talked about what happened with the rocket. We never discussed his mother. We didn’t really discuss anything at all.
I stood there and watched him work. “I got a dress.”
He stilled then looked up at me. “A dress for what?”
“The rehearsal dinner.”
His eyes filled with annoyance, like just the mention of the event infuriated him.
“Unless you don’t want me to come with you.”
“No, it’s fine,” he said coldly.
I hated this so fucking badly. I missed the man I loved so much. “Derek, I know you’re going through a hard time, but you said you would always make me a priority—”
“I’m not in the mood for this shit, Emerson.” He stared at me with pure loathing. “I gave my mom a heart attack, my rocket was a disaster, you don’t understand the meaning of privacy, and now I have to go to this stupid fucking wedding tonight and see a bunch of assholes I’d rather not see. No, you aren’t the priority right now.”
I did my best to keep my expression controlled, but that was really difficult right now. I hated it when he screamed at me, unable to control his anger, but the biggest issue I had with his rant was something he said. “I don’t understand the meaning of privacy? What does that mean?”
He dropped his pencil and rose to his feet so he could stare down at me rather than up. “It means what it literally means. You violated my privacy when you had no fucking right to do that.”
“Derek, I have no idea what you’re talking about—”
“You’re going to look me in the eye and act like you didn’t read all the stories I wrote about you?”
My heart clenched tightly when I realized my secret was out—and at the worst possible time.