Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Instead, because there’s nothing I can say to change his mind, I nod in agreement and say, “I guess we’ll see how things go.”
chapter two
PAIGE
Five Months Later
“I’ve arrived. I’m waiting for my luggage, and then I’m going to catch a cab to John’s flat.”
“How was the flight?” my best friend, Ana, asks over the phone.
Since I’m surprising John and no one else knows I’m here, she made me promise to call her when my plane landed so she’d know I was okay.
“Long, but I got a lot of work done.”
“You’re on vacation,” she chides. “No working until you get back.”
“Yes, boss,” I say in a mocking tone.
Ana is the co-chief executive officer of Kingston Limited, the liquor company I work for. Her husband, Julian, is the other CEO.
When John insisted that we move to Houston, they were looking for a chief marketing officer since theirs had been promoted to chief operating officer, and they offered me the position. I love my job, and the fact that I get to work with my best friend again—we worked together at Benson Liquor—only makes it that much better.
“Text me when you get to John’s place so I know you’ve arrived safely.”
“Will do.”
While I wait for my luggage, I pull up John’s address so I have it on hand to give to the driver. It’s been a long five months, and despite our best efforts, John and I haven’t been able to see each other. He was busy during Thanksgiving, still getting used to his new position, so he didn’t come home, and then when I mentioned Christmas, he told me he would be too busy to give me the attention I deserved and insisted I stay home.
If I’m being honest, things between us are more than strained. He wants me to move back to London, and I want to stay in Rosemary. When the rent went up, I made the decision to move to Rosemary since it was closer to work and would save me on gas. I found a beautiful three-bedroom, two-bathroom home not too far from Ana and work and bought it.
John wasn’t thrilled that I had done that, but I told him it was a good investment. The owners had been desperate to sell, and I’d gotten it at over thirty percent below market value.
I’ve moved too many times over the years without having a say, and then I moved to Houston for John. For the first time, I put my foot down, choosing to live where I want to live—choosing to put myself first since, apparently, no one else is going to—but I have a feeling it’s going to be one of the many reasons our relationship ends.
We used to talk every day, but then it turned into a few times a week, and now, it’s dwindled down to maybe once a week. I’m hoping this trip will help us figure out where we go from here because we can’t keep going the way we are—nor do I want to.
The truth is, we probably should’ve broken up a long time ago, and if it wasn’t for our friends Marina and Paul getting married this weekend—with both John and me in the wedding—we probably would’ve.
But there’s a small part of me—the romantic who loves to read romance and see women much like myself get their happily ever afters—that’s not willing to throw away a yearslong relationship without at least trying one more time.
Since today is Valentine’s Day, I booked my flight early so I could surprise John and we could spend the next few days together—and hopefully either rekindle our romance or agree to go our separate ways.
The cab driver takes me to John’s flat, and since I’m trying to surprise him, rather than call for him to let me in, I follow another resident in and up the lift. It’s still early, only eight in the morning, so I know he hasn’t left for work yet. My hope is that he’ll call out to spend the day with me, but if he needs to go, we can, at the very least, enjoy the evening together.
He’s on the second floor, and when I get to his flat number, I try the doorknob to see if, by chance, it’s unlocked. It is. So, instead of knocking, I swing the door open, and I’m about to yell, Surprise, when my eyes land on John standing in the kitchen.
Only instead of cooking, like one would do in the kitchen, he’s got a woman bent over the counter, and he’s thrusting into her from behind. They’re both naked, their clothes strewn all over the floor, and she’s screaming out his name like you hear in those pornos where you can’t help but roll your eyes because there’s no way that guy is fucking her so good that she needs to scream that loud.