Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
“Whatever that distinction means, it’s not reason enough for me to do something with you I’d be embarrassed to tell the world about. My mother always said, ‘If you’re too embarrassed to do something loud and proud and in front of the whole world, then that’s your sign you shouldn’t be doing it at all.’ Well, sorry, I’m not ready to tell the whole world, loud and proud, I’ve agreed to become your wait-around side piece in LA, only a week after my failed wedding, and the day after I lost my job for being an immoral slut. On top of all that, I’m especially not willing to become a side piece for a man who’d only prolong my nightmare by attracting even more cameras and online attention to me. I can’t stand the attention, Roman. I’m not like you.”
My God. Are my intestines tumbling onto the floor right now, because I feel like she just fileted me from my chin to my balls.
Iris levels me with determined eyes. “I release you from all guilt, Roman. Now, please, go catch your flight. I’ll never forget this amazing week with you, and I’ll always root for you from afar. But it’s time for us to say our goodbyes now.”
My heart aches at the thought of leaving her. But my brain knows she’s probably right.
“I’ll never forget this week with you,” I choke out. “I’ll always root for you from afar, too.” I peck her cheek. “Goodbye, Iris.”
“Bye, Roman.”
Swallowing hard, I grab my suitcase and stride through what feels like molasses to the front door. But before turning the doorknob, I turn to look at Iris’s beautiful, sweet face one last time. “I’m sorry if I’ve added to your pain. I only meant to help.”
Iris smiles thinly and nods through tears. “Thank you for everything.”
With a gigantic lump in my throat, I slip out the front door and immediately start striding with purpose toward my rental car in the parking lot. I’ve got a whole new life awaiting me in LA—one I couldn’t be more excited about. And yet, with each step I take away from the bungalow—away from Iris—I feel increasingly like I’m walking away from the great love of my life.
Chapter 26
Iris
“Any minute now,” Harper, my longtime bestie from Orchard Blossom, whispers.
She’s been matching my fidgety, scattered energy all day, when what I really need is for her to calm me down. It’s not that Harper gives a crap about some star quarterback she’s never met—especially one who doesn’t play for her beloved Seagulls. It’s that she cares so freaking much about me, and how much I’ve been second-guessing my decisions since parting ways with Roman in Hawaii, that she’s vicariously feeling all my pain and regret.
The Thunderbolts have scheduled a press conference at 3:00 pm Pacific Time, so Harper and I came here—Darcy’s Drinkhole, Orchard Blossom’s biggest sports bar—to watch it together. Roman said football fans would have a huge reaction to today’s announcement, and I want to see for myself in real time if he was right about that. Orchard Blossom is devout Seagulls country, but even so, the sports fans who congregate here tend to be diehard and knowledgeable about football in general. So I’m thinking they’ll be a good barometer for the significance of today’s announcement.
I’m so glad I came to Orchard Blossom to process everything that’s happened to me in such a short time. Everyone has been so good to me. So supportive. Granted, everyone other than Harper thinks I’ve been depressed and off-kilter since I got home because of what happened with Brandon. But of course, that pathetic sack of shit hasn’t even crossed my mind. No, it’s Roman who invades my waking and sleeping thoughts. Roman who makes me ache, yearn, and constantly wonder, What if? Turning him down in Hawaii felt right in the moment. But ever since, I can’t stop wondering if I’d be happier by his side in LA, even on his less-than-optimal terms.
“Two minutes,” Harper murmurs.
“No countdowns, please,” I mumble. “I already feel like I’m going to barf.”
Her lips pursed in sympathy, Harper pats my hand on the bar while calling out to the bartender, Darcy, an Orchard Blossom fixture who loved my mother like a sister. “Hey, Darcy,” Harper shouts above the din. “Will you turn up the sound on that one?” She gestures to a TV immediately above Darcy’s head.
“You bet,” Darcy calls back. She grabs a remote, and suddenly, the words coming out of the talking-head sports guys on TV cut through the wall of background noise in the bar.
I take a long guzzle of beer, readying myself to behold Roman. Not in past photos or videos online—but live and in real time. When I see Roman on that screen in a couple minutes, I’ll know he’s existing in the same moment—albeit a thousand miles away, and in a city where he doesn’t think about me, even though I can’t stop obsessively thinking about him.