Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
So instead of getting into a tux for the gala, I put on a pair of faded jeans and a lightweight cashmere sweater and headed to the club.
I have no clue how long I stayed in my private parking spot in the garage. Eventually, there was a knock on my passenger window. It was Jerico bending over to look inside at me. I rolled the window down and lifted my chin. “What’s up?”
Leaning his forearms on the door through the open window, he smirked. “What’s up with me? What’s up with you? You were sitting in your car when I got here almost two hours ago, and you’re still sitting here now that I’m on my way out. Aren’t you going in?”
I’d stared past him to the building that housed the Wicked Horse. Bringing my gaze back to Jerico, I lied to him. “Soon.”
A hint of worry flashed in his eyes, but he knows me fairly well. I’d never share something personal with him, so he just nodded. “Have fun.”
After I watched him leave, I put my car in reverse and backed out. I headed home and went to bed with nothing but my memories of me and Hannah at The Wicked Horse. It didn’t even get me aroused; it just made me melancholy as hell. I didn’t try to chase it away, though. I welcomed the suffering because it’s what I deserve after the way things ended with Hannah.
At least, I think they’re ended. Neither of us has come out and said it, but the mere fact we’ve not spoken to each other by voice or text since I canceled our date for the gala is a good sign it’s over.
My VP of marketing sticks her head in the door. “Have a great holiday, Asher.”
“You, too, Vicki,” I say with a smile.
When she leaves, I turn my gaze back out the window, letting my thoughts drift to Hannah again. She’s really all I think about, and I’ve struggled to get through my workdays. I thought time and distance would make things easier, but they’re getting worse.
I know Hannah thinks I’m upset because she held back information from me, and I’ll admit I was a little perturbed when I learned she’d had cancer. But the truth is that I’m the world’s biggest pussy because I pushed Hannah out of my life because she terrifies me now.
I see her as perhaps the best thing to ever happen to me in my life. If I were to fully embrace that, I predict catastrophic pain for me down the road if the cancer were to return and she died.
It’s a long shot, I know that.
I researched the fuck out of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Even called a doctor friend about it. It’s true… if caught in its earliest stage, treatment is ninety-percent effective in curing the disease after the five-year mark. The chances of it recurring are nominal compared to winning the supposed greatest love of my life.
And yes… it’s love.
Otherwise, why would I be this freaked out and afraid of that ten percent chance? I’m a man who has built his business successes on taking calculated risks. Why can’t I take that same risk with my heart?
It’s probably because I’m not sure I could survive losing Hannah. I think about us being together as a couple, sharing our lives and dreams with one another. I’d get to know Hope, and we’d grow to love one another. Perhaps Hannah and I would have children together. I know I’d have the best fucking partner I could ever dream of.
But what would happen if she died? Could I be strong and go on for our kids? Where would Hope go? Back to her father, which wouldn’t seem fair to me because I would have grown to love her as my own.
Yes, these are the insane thoughts that have been circulating through my mind for over a week and a half.
Insane but also plausible, because I absolutely could see a future with Hannah prior to me finding out about her cancer. In fact, I’d say it was almost inevitable—that’s how strongly I felt for her. I may not have told her that since I was growing to accept it myself, but it was there.
I’d opened the empty spaces inside of me to her, and she filled every fucking square inch.
I loved her.
Still love her.
Fuck.
When I hear a light knock on my door, I look up to see Kyla Wroth. She’s the head of our resource department and Hannah’s boss.
I smile and ask, “Headed out?”
“Not quite yet,” she says as she steps in and closes the door behind her. I sit up straighter in my chair, because Kyla has been reporting to me on Hannah since she started work last week.
“Sit down,” I say with a motion of my hand to one of the guest chairs.