Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Why?”
I tried to think of the best way to phrase it. “When things got serious, I realized he wasn’t the right man to be serious with, so I ended it before it could get more complicated.”
“So, he wasn’t marriage material?”
“I guess.”
He nodded like he understood even though there was no way he could. “Does he want to have a family?”
“He said he would do it if it was important to me.”
“So, you had that conversation?” he asked in surprise. “Then you must have loved this man.”
I shrugged in response, refusing to say the words.
“Then what makes him unfit for you, sweetheart? Because you can have any man you want, and if this is the man you want, he must be something.”
He was definitely something, just not the right something. “Damien doesn’t like him.” I was frank about it. That way, I could cut off all further questions. “And Damien will never like him. I thought it was more important to be with a man who would be accepted by my family.”
“Well, Damien doesn’t like a lot of people…”
I chuckled slightly. “True.”
“You’re wise beyond your years to make a hard decision like that. But, as your advocate, I also have to say…you’re the one in the relationship. Your brother is not.”
Now, I loved my father so much more. My eyes softened, wishing Damien possessed his gentleness. “Well, Damien really hates him, and his reasons are not unfounded.”
“Then why would you love a man your brother despises?”
I stared at my soup again. “Because I didn’t know the reasons why Damien hated him when we met. If I had, I’m sure it would have changed everything.”
“Can you tell me what these reasons are?”
I thought about coming clean right then and there, but I already had to deal with Damien’s resentment; I couldn’t handle getting it from my father too. “It doesn’t matter, Dad. I’m not seeing him anymore, so…” I grabbed my spoon and took a sip, letting the autumn flavors splash into my mouth.
He was quiet for a long time, regarding everything I said with silent concentration. “If you really love this man, like the way I loved your mother, the way Damien loves Anna, I feel like you should try to work it out. Because love is always stronger than hate, sweetheart. Always.”
I stirred the contents and kept my face stoic, even though my expression wanted to slacken, my eyes flood with tears. “I tried talking to Damien many times, Dad. He won’t change his mind. So, let’s just leave it at that…”
I didn’t hear from Heath for a long time.
Over a week.
I went to his place, got what I needed to survive, but he didn’t reciprocate. He seemed to be keeping his distance, because being with me was harder than being without me. I tried not to think about what he did in his spare time, if he was picking up other women, if he was paying for sex again, if he was doing everything people usually did to get over an ex.
Even if they meant nothing to him, the idea still killed me.
I couldn’t be with someone else, not for a long time. It would be so awkward, so sad, so forced. There would never be a time when I met a man who was better than Heath, who made the butterflies in my stomach soar, and not just because the gypsy told me so. I already knew how I felt about him, knew it was special, knew it couldn’t be replicated with someone else. Our love wasn’t ordinary. Extraordinary, instead.
I asked my father not to discuss about our conversation to Damien, and he seemed to keep my secret because Damien never mentioned it to me. And if my father had, I knew Damien would come at me hard, furious I mentioned anything to him.
I sat in bed with a book in my lap, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything I read. My eyes kept glancing out the window, seeing the cold frost the corners of the glass. I wasn’t sure what time it was, but I was exhausted from rehearsal all week, but I was never calm enough to go to sleep and make it through the night. I was always awakened by my dreams, nightmares, fantasies…
Then I heard the familiar sound of footsteps outside my door.
The turn of the locks.
And then the sound of a big man walking across the hardwood floor.
The book was still open in my lap because I hadn’t moved. My heart started to pound inside my chest, vibrate my rib cage, and my sense of hearing heightened, picked up every single movement.
He grabbed the vase from under the sink, turned on the faucet to fill it with water, and then set it on the kitchen island.
He only did that for one reason—because he’d brought me flowers.