Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“I pulled her aside afterward and insisted on a DNA test before we get married.”
I couldn’t believe everything I was hearing. “This was a trap, Tate,” I whispered. He stepped right in it. And he was letting her get away with it.
That was the part I didn’t understand.
I was always afraid she would do something like this. I had hoped she’d be the bigger person. Apparently she wasn’t.
“She trapped you. Don’t you see it? It’s right in front of your fucking face. You don’t have to marry her. Even if she has this baby. You can still be a father without being with the mother.” I didn’t even attempt to hide the desperation in my voice.
Even though Dahlia was a conniving bitch, that didn’t change the fact that he never told me what happened. He went on about life like it hadn’t.
Life had other plans for him. And so did Dahlia.
Now he couldn’t ignore it. Life was slapping him right in the face.
It was slapping me in the face, too.
“I can’t with you. I can’t with this.” The sting from that slap was getting sharper by the second. “I hate your parents. I hate that fucking bitch. And you know what, Tate?” I sucked in a breath to cool the fury burning inside of me, but it didn’t work. It exploded from me, instead. “I fucking hate you, too.” I didn’t want to hear any more excuses. Or any more explanations. None of them made sense, anyway. I couldn’t wrap my head around any of this. I jabbed a finger toward the door. “Get out.”
“Roe… Please… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this—”
The words got caught in my throat but I forced them out and cut him off. “I need you to leave while I pack my stuff.”
“I live—“
“Get out, Tate!”
“I’ll pay the rent for the apartment. You can stay here for the summer.”
“Unlike Dahlia, I don’t want your fucking money, Tate! I wanted you!” I yelled, making him wince.
“I’m sorry. Roe, I’m so fucking sorry...”
My pulse pounded in my temples. The blood rushed in my ears. I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t see. I could only continue to scream, “Get out! Get out! Get out!” until my throat was raw, my tears dried up, my heart no longer beat.
And until…
Tate was gone.
CHAPTER 16
Ronan (Now)
I had skipped Tate’s graduation. Skipped saying goodbye.
I never saw him again.
Not until that day he walked into my building.
Now here he was, wandering through my penthouse, acting as if those years in the time between never happened.
Even if it had been a mistake—one he couldn’t erase and one I couldn’t forget— he’d handled the whole situation badly.
In the end, Dahlia had won. I had lost.
That day I packed my things, moved out of our apartment, and decided I would never let myself lose again. That was the day I hardened both my heart and my resolve.
Dahlia had gotten what she wanted and was happy. Her parents were happy that their daughter was marrying into the Harris family. Tate’s parents got the daughter-in-law they wanted, too.
The two people who ended up not happy in the equation were me and Tate.
In spite of that, I had moved on as best as I could. While Tate had remained stuck in that hell.
But then, that was the choice he made and had to live with for over a decade. A decade of waking up next to a person who had deceived and manipulated him on purpose.
While I woke up every morning alone.
Before I could see him, I heard Tate coming back down the hallway. I thought about telling him to turn around and head back to my bedroom, but I needed to keep the sex as impersonal as possible. That meant keeping him out of my bed.
As soon as he reappeared in the living room, he said, “Your place is… impressive, Roe. You’ve done well. I’m…” He paused. “You probably don’t want to hear this, and coming from me it might not mean a thing, but… I’m proud of you.”
He was wrong. I did want to hear that from him.
And that “want” floored me.
While I didn’t need any of that from him, his validation meant a lot more than it should.
I responded with, “Wait out here. I’ll be right back.”
As I walked past him, I pressed my hands to my outer thighs to keep from grabbing him and dragging him back to my bedroom.
When I returned with the lube and condoms a few minutes later, Tate was standing in front of the wall of windows, looking out over the city.
When he heard me approach, he said softly, “It’s perfect.”
So was he. Still.
I just couldn’t let him worm his way back into my heart.
For my own mental well-being, I had to keep this strictly sex between us.
This way, even if he walked away again, I’d have this.