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)
The heat of her touch almost has me forgetting that we’re standing outside at the end of December. “You didn’t fight for me, but . . .” I look at her through the corners of my eyes, unable to give her more despite the desperation I feel to do just that. “But I thought you’d fight for yourself.”
Her body jolts as if the words themselves were knives I used to stab her. Tears fill her eyes, reflecting the light from the sign hanging above the door. She steps away from me and angles her body toward the street. Gnawing her bottom lip, she focuses her eyes on the traffic, though there’s also an emptiness inside them. “I did, too.” She looks at me with more distance—ice, a cold night, and life—coming between us.
Holding her hand out just enough to look at the ring on her finger, she laughs, the action causing the first tears to fall down her face. “I hadn’t even looked at it.” Her shoulders fall with a heavy exhale before she looks back at me again. “I’m not.”
“Sosie.”
The severe tone causes both of us to look toward the entrance of the pub to see what I can only assume is the fiancé. I’m met with eyes that hold no kindness. Not a surprise since I’m not sure I would react any differently if the roles were reversed. But it’s when he looks at Sosie that boils my blood. The hard lines of his expression, the shortness of his tone, and the finger pointing at the ground beside him have me closing the gap that had invaded.
He says, “It’s time for you to come inside. We celebrated your birthday, and then Jerilyn tells me you’re out here with some guy.”
She looks at me, but I can’t read her thoughts in the brief exchange. And damn do I want to. When she doesn’t say anything, he glares at me again, then comes at me with a handshake. “Gregory Lafoon.”
I don’t take the bait, not needing to explain jack shit to this guy, much less give him the courtesy of shaking his hand. Call me petty, I guess.
“Gregory,” she says, her hands going up as if to halt his progression. “I’ll be in soon. I need a few more minutes.”
His gaze flickers to me before he sets his sights on her again. “People are talking. It’s inappropriate for you to be out here alone with him.”
“Don’t talk to me like that. You have no say in what I do.”
“As your fiancé—”
She balks, drawing my attention back to her, and when she tugs the ring from her finger, she snaps, “We’re not engaged.” Moving forward, she’s not tentative in her steps toward him like she was with me. She has nothing to lose with him . . .
She holds out her hand until he opens his palm to her. “I don’t want your ring or anything else with you, Gregory.”
His eyes slide to mine over her shoulder before he takes hold of her upper arm and leans in. Is he looking to die? Because he’s about to. If not by me, then by Sosie. Gritting his teeth, he lowers his voice as if there’s privacy on the streets of New York. “We’ve already talked about this. You said—”
“The only agreement we ever made is the one you broke.” She pulls away from him, and although she’s not standing at my side, she’s standing on her own. That’s the Spark I remember.
He takes a step forward, but this time, I hum, “Uh-uh,” as a warning. He stops. His expression shuffles from offense to disbelief to irritation.
“What are you doing?” he asks her, his voice tipping into anger.
After she takes what appears to be a sobering breath, nerves don’t rattle her stance. “I’m getting my life back.” She crosses her arms over her chest and stares at him like it’s settled. I’m fairly certain the can has only just been opened, and there will be more to come, but I’m proud of her. I don’t know where this will lead, but I’m hoping I get to witness her reclaiming herself.
I exhale, causing both to look my way. “It’s not her birthday,” I say, his earlier comment still grating on my nerves.
The slightest of smiles tickles the corners of her mouth as she unfolds the defensiveness of her arms.
Pivoting his body toward mine, he tilts his head back as if I’d be intimidated by this soft-handed asshole. Starting shit with me is one thing, but treating Sosie with anything less than respect will be his biggest regret. “What do you know about my fiancée’s birthday?” he asks, raising his voice.
What’s he so fucking threatened by? Me? Good. He should be. This is the kind of guy who would take it out on her behind closed doors. He has such a punchable fucking face . . . but I should tread more carefully for her sake. “I know that Christmas Eve isn’t her birthday. It’s interesting you don’t know that.”