Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
He hummed noncommittally. “And?”
“And what?”
“And what happened to cause your little outburst?”
“We had an argument. And when it ended, I…” I cringed. “I didn’t explicitly tell him that I was done with our engagement—just that I was done.”
Another hum that started to grate on my nerves because I knew it contained so much more than the words he selectively spoke. “There’s a thing called a phone that you could easily remedy your technicality.”
“No. I don’t want to talk to him. I can’t.”
“Aspen…”
“Don’t use that pitying tone with me.”
“I’m not. I would never pity you. You scare me too much,” he defended with a chuckle. “But I’m your friend, and I hate that you’re hurting.”
“I’m okay,” I objected, ignoring the abundant tissues littering the floor.
“Yeah,” he said sarcastically and paused. “I’m assuming this argument is the main culprit for your trip to New Orleans?”
I played with a stray string on the comforter. “It was kind of a long chain of events that had been building for a while now. I can’t pass all the blame onto him.”
“Uh, yes, you can because I’m your friend. So, it’s always his fault. Right, girlfriend?”
I recoiled from his flamboyant voice. “Don’t ever use that voice again. It scares me.”
“That’s fair,” he agreed lightly.
We both fell silent, and my lips curved. Talking to Ash eased some of the tension weighing me down, so my smile came easily and didn’t hurt so much.
“I’m gonna be okay,” I said softly.
“You’re going to be okay,” he affirmed. “When are you coming back?”
I moaned, falling back against the headboard. “I guess I have to come back at some point.”
“Yes, please. We need you. And we have a meeting you’ve canceled more than once.”
“Yeah…” I exhaled. “I guess I’ll be back next week, back in tip-top shape to tackle business.”
“That’s my girl.”
I smiled harder. “Hey, Ash?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
We hung up, and I tossed my phone aside. In the silence of the room, left with my own thoughts, doubts crept in, and I had to wonder…
Would I really be okay?
Or would this cavernous hole, I never knew existed until Lucian Daire pointed it out, ever go away?
CHAPTER 19
LUCIAN
The clock ticked like a drumming countdown as I sat in the meeting room, watching the door, waiting for Aspen to walk through. My pulse thrummed an anxious beat, almost as fast as my bouncing leg under the table. Anticipation over discovering how she’d act around me electrified my nerves until I couldn’t sit still.
Would I get the Aspen who flooded me with her emotions at the club, or would I get the one who ran away and ignored every message and call over the past two agonizing weeks?
Neither option settled comfortably, like a too-tight shirt that twisted and pulled.
However, the memory of coming home to an empty apartment reignited the anger that had consumed me.
After talking to Corbin and Rose, their words had crept past my mountainous walls, and I’d headed home with an inkling of hope—only to find her gone. That hope vanished to ash under a fiery disappointment. My friends had built me up, making me believe I could face her and admit that what we had might be more than we had set out to have. Not love. Every time that word crept into my thoughts, my chest twisted until I struggled to breathe.
But I’d walked in, and embarrassment heated me from the inside out, reminding me too much of what Daria had made me feel. I’d pushed past my boundaries for her—built myself up to face her—just to have everything ripped out from under me. I became self-righteous, justifying my earlier reactions, resolidifying my walls with the affirmation that if she’d meant everything she’d said, she wouldn’t have abandoned me.
Lying in bed, hoping to hear the slam of the front door had left me unable to completely deny any feelings of hurt—which only led to more defensiveness.
I’d gone to the club the next day, determined to wipe away any remnants of wounded pride. Instead of the oblivion I searched for, I found Rose standing in the hallway, lips pursed, brow raised, arms crossed, and foot tapping.
“What are you doing here? Alone? Is Aspen coming to meet you later?”
“No,” I grumbled, matching her glare with one of my own.
“Did you not talk to her last night?”
“No.”
She huffed. “And why not?”
I took two steps closer, my lip curling in a snarl. “Because she fucking left, and I don’t know where she went.”
If I expected sympathy, I was disappointed. “You poor baby,” she cooed sarcastically. “Maybe instead of throwing a tantrum, you should find out.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have to hunt down the woman who claimed to care soooo much about me and then ran at the first bump in the road.”
This time, her expression did soften—barely. “I get it, Lucian. You opened yourself up to the possibility of more, and it didn’t work out. But it was one moment. While you opened your barrier an inch, she flew her doors wide open. Put yourself in her shoes.”