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)
“Would it have mattered?”
She scoffs but tries to hide behind humor by smiling. It’s fake, like the one she’s honed her skills on for others. I don’t appreciate it being used on me. Raising her chin, she says, “It sure did at the time.” Her jealousy or whatever else she’s confessing is familiar. I felt it tonight, though I kept it in check.
Maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on her that she can’t. I’d rather see the real her through a myriad of emotions than have her true thoughts be shielded from me. So I give her grace for the instant reaction that she couldn’t hide.
“What about now?”
“Doesn’t matter.” She sits next to me on the couch, only quickly glancing at me before fixating on the pizza box. “The timelines don’t match. She wasn’t your—” She bites her bottom lip, struggling to say the word that would usually follow that line of thinking. She’s done it twice now. Sitting back, she tucks one foot under her other leg, taking up space not only on my couch but in my life again. I should probably mind it more than I do.
“She wasn’t my girlfriend.” I help her out since I’m sensing she needs it. “You must have visited after I had moved.”
With the gentlest of nods, she seems to breathe easier. “Must have been.” Sliding off the couch onto her knees, she rips the paper towels off the roll and doles them out before opening the box and handing me a plate with a large slice. She resettles on the floor and takes a bite of her own piece.
We eat in silence, making me think I should turn on the TV for background noise. I resist that urge, wanting to talk instead. With the crust remaining, I say, “You gave the ring back, but are you still engaged?”
She laughs, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. When she swallows, she angles to face me from the floor. “Am I engaged?” She’s already shaking her head. “No. I never was.”
“That’s not what that ring on your finger suggested, and since I was there, I don’t think the asshole knows you’re not.”
“The truth?”
“We’re nothing without it.”
The outer corners of her eyes soften as she picks at a piece of pepperoni. “I was ambushed in front of a hundred or more people shortly before I saw you.” Placing the meat in her mouth, she looks at me again.
I was purposely putting off going to the party. My gut tightens when I realize I could have saved the embarrassment if I had only shown up on time. If I had been there—fuck. Timing? That’s what fucked with us? Just like the last time. It’s always at play. Maybe one day it will work in our favor.
“Why were you wearing the ring if it wasn’t real?”
“Do you have a girlfriend, Keats?”
My head jerks back from the question she’s lobbed my way. It’s a soft ball since the answer isn’t something I wouldn’t share. “No.”
Resting her arm on the cushion beside me, she says, “I don’t have a fiancé. I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t have a significant other or a partner. I was wearing the ring because I’m not someone who wants to humiliate anyone. I had an agreement with Gregory to attend events together—nothing more and nothing less than it seems. I’ve never kissed him. I’ve never been with him in any way that would have given him the impression of wanting to date him, much less marry him.” She fidgets where the seams come together and then looks me straight in the eyes like she has nothing left to hide. “It’s just me, like it’s always been.”
Sosie has never made me nervous even though I felt she was out of my league. She made me feel bigger than myself, like I mattered to someone in this world. She gave me what I needed to hear. I’ll do the same in return. “I’ve not had a girlfriend, not since I met you.”
“Why is that?” she whispers.
“I didn’t make time. I didn’t prioritize my personal life. Anyone I met wasn’t you.”
I don’t know how I expect her to react, but it’s not with the smile tugging the left side of her mouth up. When she slips her hand onto my leg, the electricity still exists like a live wire between us. “Is it wrong to be glad I wasn’t suffering alone?”
Chuckling, I reply, “Probably, but I know what you mean, so I won’t hold it against you.”
“Thank God.” She pushes up off the floor with a laugh and pads into the kitchen. “Water?”
“Sure.” I set my plate on the table. “There are glasses in the cabinet and a pitcher in the fridge.”
“No bottles?” she calls.
“Nope.”
She chuckles as she opens cabinets in her search. “Why does that seem so fitting?”