Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Rad: Where are you? I have something I want to show you in the media room.
I hate that I smile and that my heart does a somersault.
Rad: I can’t wait to be alone with you tonight.
Rad: What’s going on? What happened? Where are you, baby?
He acts like I did a great disappearing act. Nope. I was right there all along.
Rad: Don’t leave, Tealey. We need to talk.
Yeah, I guess we did need to, after all. I just wonder if he was planning to tell me about the engagement or if the plan was to leave me out of the equation, as usual.
Rad: Talk to me. Please.
I’m not even sure what to think anymore. I hate that he has me second-guessing myself. I did nothing wrong but love him. Love? My stomach clenches, and tears well in my eyes again.
Rad: Why did you leave?
Rad: Call me.
Like a call could cure all our problems. This is too far gone for that.
I can’t worry more about him being upset than the pain he caused me. I need to stop putting others first all the time. It’s a side effect of my job, but I’m always the one taken advantage of.
Considering how early I woke up to start helping and then to get ready for the wedding, I’m surprised I’m not tired. I guess the nap in the car has given me enough energy to get through a bare minimum of the task at hand. I need to make some quick decisions on what I’m taking with me to last for the next week.
I open my suitcase on the bed and scramble to fill it with everything I’ll need, everything that doesn’t include the man I thought made my life complete. When it’s full, I zip it closed and wheel it to the elevator. I don’t know if Rad is coming back to Manhattan tonight or not, but I start moving faster like he just might be. I’m not looking for a confrontation or to work through this. With my emotions in tatters, I’m not clear-headed enough to argue against an attorney who’s out to win.
There’s no winning for either of us. The moment he got engaged to Marlow, he made his decision, and that had nothing to do with me.
Rad’s engaged . . .
I still can’t believe there’s any truth to the rumor. Or is it that I don’t want to believe he’d stoop beneath the morals he claims to have to earn a promotion? Even if it’s fake, like so much has been lately, my feelings weren’t considered.
This is about his ego and his reputation. I never did feed that part of him. I’m sure the Wellington and Marché nuptials announcement should give both Rad and Marlow what they crave most—attention.
No honest man would make a mockery of love. Jean-Luc saw Rad for who he is.
It’s time I do, too.
After getting a minimal charge to my phone, I grab it and the cable and tuck it into my purse that Jackson was kind enough to sneak into the bridal room to retrieve for me. With it anchored around my body, I punch the button to call the elevator and wait anxiously for it to arrive.
When the door slides open, I hold my breath, not breathing again until I see it’s empty. Oh, thank God. Nothing good would have come from an argument at this hour when my nerves are frayed.
From the lobby, I call a car. It only takes a minute, but my hands are shaking more now than before, so I busy myself by pulling up Jackson’s address and memorizing the code just in case my phone dies again.
The car is close, so I push the suitcase onto the sidewalk and look up.
My eyes meet the ones that I equally love and dread. Standing just twenty feet ahead of me with his hands in his pockets, Rad is waiting for me.
Waiting . . .
His real “baby” is parked at the curb. The jacket and bow tie are gone, but he’s still dressed in the tux shirt and pants, the light from above the door shining on his leather shoes. Despite Rad’s hair being a mess—he has a habit of tugging it when he’s stressed—why is he here?
I hate that the bond that tethers us together still exists. The urge to go to him, sweep his hair off his forehead, and embrace him is so strong that I must restrain myself from doing it.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is full of the shame it should be, a tone that knows the damage done.
“For what?” I wipe at my eyes, not wanting him to see how vulnerable I am.
He’s shaking his head as his gaze briefly looks down. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to lose you.”
“That’s not good enough anymore.”
He closes his eyes for a long second. “Why’d you leave?”