Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
A knock raps against the door a whole fifteen minutes early. Early and door-to-car service? Gosh. What is Mom paying these people?
“Just a moment, please,” I say, giving myself a final once-over. Aside from slightly swollen eyes, I look fine. I’d look better with a smile, but we can’t have it all. And if someone tells me to smile tonight, I’m going to show them what I learned in my single self-defense class.
“I wish you could see yourself as I see you. You’d walk into every room with your head held high and not give a damn about what anyone thought about you—because you’d know you were everything.”
Brooks’s words bring the slightest grin to my lips as I toss my gloss and phone into my purse. “Okay. Here we go. I’ve got this.” Then I head for the door.
“I apologize for keeping you … waiting.” My hand flies to my mouth as I look into this man’s eyes—beautiful, brilliant chips of jade staring back at me. He’s here?
Brooks stands in the hallway, wearing black pants and a crisp white shirt. His jaw is covered with stubble, and his hair is wild yet so perfectly him. My fingers burn to roam through his hair, and my palms itch to scrape over his jaw.
But I don’t touch him. I don’t even know why he’s here.
“Hey,” he says, his voice rough like he, too, hasn’t slept well.
“What are you doing here?”
He shrugs as if no words will make it clear, like it’s a feeling more than a sentence. Still, he tries. “I’m sorry.”
Two words that I didn’t need to hear but pummel me all the same. I try to catch my breath, to process the moment, but it’s too big and beautiful to handle.
“You’re gorgeous,” he says softly. “Wow, Doc.”
Tears threaten to ruin my makeup. Doc. I never realized how much I loved his silly nickname for me until now.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in Las Vegas today?” I ask, sniffling. Don’t cry, Audrey.
He nods. “I was. It’s kind of a long story.”
“Why are you here?”
He gives me a lopsided grin. “Short answer? Because you are.”
I bite my lip to keep from crying. It’s getting harder by the minute.
“Long answer?” He shrugs. “Because you were right.”
“What about?”
“A lot, really. But you were completely correct when you told me that I needed to let the past go.”
Oh. I step out of the doorway and offer him to come inside. The relief on his handsome face is evident, his nerves palpable. It would be endearing if I knew for sure what prompted this visit.
“I have Dad’s party tonight, and a car will be arriving to pick me up at any second,” I say. “So, can you please cut to the chase?”
He takes a deep breath in preparation for his explanation. I’m scared to hope it’s going to be something that thrills me, and terrified that it’ll be something that hurts me. He has the power to do both. And yet I don’t believe he’s cruel enough to do the latter.
“I had something happen not long ago, something I’ll tell you about later, just not tonight,” he says. “And it was easily the worst predicament I’ve ever found myself in, and that’s saying a lot.”
I fight a smile, but it’s futile.
“There has been a lot of introspection done in the last couple of days,” he says. “I also took a call from your friend Gianna, who threatened me within an inch of my life.”
“She did?”
“She sure as fuck did.” He chuckles, shifting his feet. “Listen, I want you to know that I listened to you. I heard what you said. And I’ve thought about everything you shared with me, the advice you gave me, and I’ve taken a good, hard look at my life.”
I nod, not sure what to say. And grabbing hold and shaking the answer out of him doesn’t seem very effective, but I’m dying to know what he means. I’m desperate to know what would be so important to show up here on a night he should be across the country and apologize.
“Before you came into my life, I was still living in the past,” he says. “I think it was probably a self-imposed punishment of some sort, but I’d deemed it as fine. I didn’t know any better. I never let anyone close enough to me to show me any differently. I didn’t feel I deserved any better.” He inhales as a soft smile just for me settles on his face. “And then here you come with your pink ribbon and sewing kit, ready to make a mess of me.”
“What are you saying?” My heart is thundering. This is excruciating. “I’m happy that you’re going to stop punishing yourself, but why come all the way here and tell me this?”
He reaches for my hand, and I don’t decide. My palm just extends to his. The contact is almost too much, too personal—too much of a reminder of the few days where things were perfect.