Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 59287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
I should’ve never looked into him, then…
“But what about—”
“The shower?” She pushed me. “Yes. Now.”
SUFFERING (N.):
THE PAIN, HURT, INCONVENIENCE, EMBARRASSMENT AND/OR INABILITY TO PERFORM NORMAL ACTIVITIES AS A RESULT OF A PHYSICAL AND/OR EMOTIONAL INJURY.
LIAM
“Good morning, Judge Ashton.” The valet tipped his hat at me. “Which car would you like to drive this morning?”
“My McLaren, please.”
“They’ll bring it right away,” he whispered my request into the small mic in his shirt, then he smiled. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m all ears, sir.”
“Tell me something.” I stepped closer. “Is there a flu or a bug going around the building?”
“Not that I know of, sir.”
“There has to be,” I said. “I need you to have the manager look into it ASAP.”
“Uh, okay…” He pulled a tablet from his pocket. “Can you tell me your symptoms?”
“I can’t sleep, I’m having trouble eating, and my chest hurts like hell.” I looked at him. “I can literally feel my heart aching with every beat.”
“There’s also a strange wetness that forms in my eyes late at night and the eye drops just make it worse.”
“Is that all, sir?”
No…
I refused to mention the fact that I kept seeing Olivia no matter where I went, that I grabbed my phone every few minutes to see if she’d texted or called, or that I’d struggled to go more than an hour without thinking about her beautiful face or hearing her raspy laughter.
Hell, I’d lost count of the times I’d envisioned her sitting in my lap or standing on her heels to kiss me. And all the nights we spent tangled in my sheets.
Those things had nothing to do with this sudden and inconvenient bout of illness.
“Yeah, that’s it,” I said. “You can tell him he has permission to spray disinfectant on my floor if he needs to.”
“I doubt that’ll be happening,” he muttered under his breath.
“What did you just say?” I asked.
“Nothing.” His face reddened. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You said ‘I doubt that’ll be happening,’” I repeated his words, daring him to deny it. “Are you a doctor?”
“No, sir, but…” He waved a hand as another valet pulled my McLaren to the curb. “You’re not sick.”
“I am,” I said. “I literally just gave you my list of symptoms.”
“You’re suffering from a heartbreak, sir.” He stared at me. “It’s typically what happens after a breakup.”
“I haven’t told you anything about who I’m dating.”
“It was the woman in the gray Nissan,” he said. “It was very obvious, sir.”
“We were just colleagues.”
“Okay, sir.”
“She meant nothing to me.”
“I believe you, sir.”
“Do you really?”
“No.” He walked over to my car and held the driver’s door open. “Have a wonderful day in the world, Mr. Ashton.”
I followed him and slid behind the wheel, but I didn’t immediately shut the door and drive away.
“Assuming your diagnosis is correct—and it isn’t,” I said to the valet, “how long does it normally take until these symptoms go away?”
“Hard to say.” He shrugged. “Could be weeks, could be months. It all depends.”
“On what?”
“How much she meant to you.” He shut my door and rushed away to assist someone else.
I sighed and cranked my engine, mentally doing the math.
So, I’ll be over her within a day or so…
CONSEQUENTIAL DAMAGES (N.):
DAMAGES CLAIMED AND/OR AWARDED IN A LAWSUIT WHICH WERE CAUSED AS A DIRECT FORESEEABLE RESULT OF WRONGDOING.
LIAM
One Week Later
“Your Honor?” A harsh voice echoed off the walls.
I can’t believe Olivia still hasn’t called or texted me.
“Judge Ashton?”
I’m not calling her, though. She’s the one who fucked ‘us’ up…
“JUDGE. ASHTON.” The voice sliced through my thoughts, making me look up and face reality.
What the…
I was sitting on the bench, facing a damn near-empty courtroom. There was only one defendant and her lawyer left.
The clock on the wall read four fifty-two, and Miss Julia was standing at the podium with her hands on her hips.
“We’re awaiting your ruling on this case, sir,” she said.
“My apologies.” I cleared my throat. “Please repeat what you’re suggesting, Miss Julia.”
“The state is requesting a half a million dollar bail—if you grant bail, passport turnover, and a mandatory GPS tracking device.”
“For a first offense?” I glanced down at the docket.
“The defendant is a danger to society,” she said. “Anyone who would willingly engage in this type of behavior at twenty-five years old is at risk to repeat it again.”
“Defense?” I looked at the other side. “Your take?”
“My client and her friends were skinny dipping off a private dock on The Hudson River, Your Honor,” he said. “This is a simple trespassing charge—a misdemeanor at best—and the state is going overboard with the charges here.”
“I agree.” I scribbled down a note to myself. “Defendant will be released on her own recognizance with a stern warning to read and follow ‘private property’ signs from here on out.”
I banged my gavel. “You’re dismissed.”
“Permission to talk to you in private, Your Honor?” Miss Julia asked.