Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
I gave up making sense of my fascination with Sosie Stansbury years prior, so I’m not getting sucked back in again. She’s not real, Keats. She’s nothing more than my mind playing tricks on me.
Taylor grabs my wrist like we’re on personal terms. We’re not. We haven’t been before she hugged me like she might want to cross that line. I look at her. There’s no denying any guy would find her attractive with her classical features, but there’s no pull between us. Not for me anyhow. She says, “We got the deal.”
“What deal?”
“The book deal. You know, the one we’ve had out on submission for more than a year now?”
I say the words, but the shock is there. “We got the book deal . . .”
“Yes. Now, come on upstairs.” She grabs my hand like this is something we do and drags me toward the stairs in the hallway. “They’re waiting at the party for you so they can make the announcement.”
Releasing me, she’s three steps ahead when I stop at the bottom. My soul is unsettled by the sudden appearance of my past staring back at me. “I think I need a few minutes.”
Taylor stops and looks back at me. “What do you mean?”
I thumb over my shoulder, and reply, “Fresh air. It’s warm in here. I’m going to get some fresh air, and then I’ll be there.”
“I can go with you.” She takes a step before I raise my hand.
“I need a minute to process that this is happening.”
She laughs, but it dies off into sympathy, which levels her smile. “It’s a lot. I get it. You’ve worked for years for this book deal.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, and says, “Take a few minutes, then come join us, okay?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. I’m not sure what I would say anyway. I’d sound like I’m losing my grip on reality if I explained the real reason I need a moment to recuperate.
I cut through the crowd and push through the exit to land in the dead of winter on the sidewalk. The bite of cold air shocks my system, instantly cooling my heated skin. My scrambling thoughts start to slow, and I regain some perspective. See? She’s all in my head.
In my veins.
Living carelessly in my heart like she belongs.
Will I never be free from that night?
No. Not as long as the torch I carry inside remains lit. And there’s no snuffing that out anytime soon. She’s got a vise grip on my affections that I can’t seem to shake loose.
“Keats?”
I squeeze my eyes closed, refusing to allow myself to start hearing things as well. When I reopen them, cars are still lining the curb, the light is now red instead of green, and the number of people out this late on a holiday still amazes me.
“Hi,” she says, her voice barely above the shiver in her tone.
My shoulders drop, knowing I can no longer pretend. I turn back to see Sosie standing there in her shimmering dress, her eyes still holding an ember of hope. I don’t know what to say, so I stare at her, wondering if she can fill in the blanks.
She takes a tentative step forward. The smile I remember is absent from her face. Instead, I look into eyes that hold concern. Concern for what? That I’ll escape? There’s no escaping her. I’ve tried for years, and we still end up rotating in each other’s orbit as if our magnetic paths were always meant to cross. Again. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
With a shrug, she shakes her head. “I don’t know. Just felt like I needed to apologize to you.”
She was always too beautiful for her own good, almost oblivious to how breathtaking she was. Still is. If she’s the same as she used to be, I bet she’d find that annoying. Sosie’s heart always ran deeper than the superficial stuff. She was twenty when we met. It doesn't seem as long as the years claim, but looking at her now is like seeing who she was for a brief second of my life and then blinking. Her features are more refined, her hair perfectly in place, wearing expensive everything. The woman she claimed she never wanted to be now stands before me.
Why does she have to be so damn stunning?
Will I never learn?
I reply, “You don’t.” Although New York is alive with the sounds of horns and chatter, the wind that blows down the avenue, and life happening around us, silence fills the space between us. “Your hair is a lot lighter.”
She’s quick to touch it like she’d forgotten it was there. Pulling the clip holding her hair together in the back, the long lengths tumble down over her shoulders. “It’s . . .” She toys with the ends on her left side as if some nerves have kicked in, and says, “Yes, it is.”