Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I don’t even make it past our wedding-day-that-didn’t-happen—when the messages from him started to get really ugly. My mother’s text messages, on the other hand, are a quicker read. There are only two.
Mom: NORAH. This behavior is unacceptable. You have embarrassed yourself. Your family. Thomas. Everyone. You should be ashamed of yourself. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What kind of mess you’ve left us all with? You are being so selfish and stupid. You were lucky to find a man like Thomas, but now, you’ve ruined everything.
Mom: I will never forgive you for this.
Regardless of the things I know about my mother now, the words still sting like a bitch. Being a people pleaser is ingrained in me. Thankfully, they also reinforce one thing—coming to Red Bridge was the right choice.
Honestly, it was the only choice.
I shove my phone back into my purse and return my attention to Josie’s front door. After the world’s longest inhale and exhale, I lift my fist and sound off three good knocks against the pink wood.
Instantly, I want to run away and hide in a bush, but the sounds of movement in the house are enough to tell me I wouldn’t even make it off the porch in time.
The door opens with a whoosh of air that brushes across my face, and Josie is right there, standing in front of me.
She looks exactly the same as the last time I saw her. The same curls as mine, only platinum blond instead of light brown, unchanged bright-green eyes that curl into the most perfect cat eye with her makeup, and a cute button nose. Her colorful tattoo sleeve on her right arm that I saw for the first time at our grandmother’s funeral is still there, and the same J necklace at her throat—a keepsake of our sister Jezzy’s that Josie’s worn since the day she died—hasn’t changed either. She’s even sporting a similar style to the one I’ve always known her for, sticking to a simple tank top and jean shorts.
She looks like Josie…like my sister…and I’m both happy and terrified knowing what that means I should expect for my reception.
“Norah?” The surprise in her voice is evident.
My smile is shaky. “Hi, sis.”
A million emotions flit across Josie’s face. First, shock. Then, confusion. Then… “What in the hell are you doing here?”
Oh boy.
“Uh…I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by and see how you’re doing.”
“In the neighborhood?” she retorts with narrowed eyes. “Red Bridge is nine hours away from New York.”
“Okay, so I wasn’t exactly in the neighborhood, but I…wanted to see you.”
“You came all the way to Red Bridge because, suddenly, after five years of no contact, you wanted to see me?” Her brow furrows in skepticism. “You really expect me to believe that?”
“I did. I do want to see you. Five years is too long for anyone, and it’s definitely too long for us,” I respond, but when she looks down at my suitcase with hard eyes and a fixed mouth, I know I’m going to have to hit the honesty a little harder if I have any chance of swaying her. “And…I kind of…sort of…need a place to stay for a little while.”
“You want to stay here? With me?” She looks down at my suitcase again. “And you didn’t think it was a good idea to give me a heads-up?”
“I tried to call you,” I lie, and Josie’s gaze jerks back to mine.
“Bullshit.”
“Okay, so I didn’t try to call you because I had a feeling you’d strongly discourage my presence.” Not to mention, emotionally, I’ve had a lot going on.
A harsh laugh jumps from her lungs. “Very perceptive of you.”
“So…can I come in or…?”
“How about you tell me why you’re here first, and then I’ll decide.”
I push out a breath. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.” She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the doorframe. She’s settling in for the long haul, but I’m not ready to open Pandora’s box of wedding day disaster. Though, I’m going to have to find some manner of compromise with myself if I want in that door.
“I just needed a break.”
“You left New York because you needed a break?” she questions. “And why do you need a break exactly? Life getting a little hard in the penthouse?” She laughs at me, which stings. “Or, maybe, you’re low on maids and overwhelmed at doing your own laundry? Or, I know, maybe you’re distraught because Hermes won’t let you buy the latest bag?”
Typically, I, Norah Ellis, am the peacekeeper. The person who doesn’t give in to anger and who doesn’t shout or let mean words flow off her tongue. But evidently, I am not that person today. The derision in her voice, mixed with everything I went through back in New York, burrows underneath my skin like a little parasite, and once it finds its way into my bloodstream, I can’t hold back.