Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Her security deposit.
When she moved out of her apartment and into a house, I paid to have the carpet replaced and new lighting fixtures put in all the bathrooms.
I was happy to do it, and I would do it again, but it drove Laura absolutely crazy. I could buy her a four-thousand-dollar purse, but I couldn’t spend two-hundred dollars on a ceiling fan for my little sister?
So fucked up.
She did me a huge favor by cheating on me.
What she didn’t do was let me move on quietly. I just see it every goddamn time I turn on the television, her and Keith in the news, her flashy engagement ring and giant new tits.
And eight months after she left? The baby bump.
I lost my girlfriend and a client at the same time.
The feelings associated with that whole mess were shame, embarrassment, anger, and sadness. I felt it all. And the fact that the media latched on to it, making it a feeding frenzy for entertainment purposes.
Laura may have moved on, but it took me months.
And when Keith dumped me as his agent? He hadn’t had the balls to deliver the news himself. He had his lawyer do it, taking no responsibility for breaking up my…
My…
Relationship.
Was it loving and caring? Not really.
Was Laura physically my type? She used to be, one-hundred percent. Back when she was natural; back before she had fillers. Back when she used her brain and her personality and was amusing.
Was she a good fit for my family? No.
Such a mismatch between us it became laughable. Still, I saw glimmers of sweetness, er, every once in a while that made me loyal, and I thought she was loyal, too.
Ha.
What a joke that turned out to be.
I pour a glass of wine and walk to the terrace. The wind blows my hair in a million directions, and the wineglass in my hand remains full from when I poured it.
I’m no longer in the mood to drink anything.
No longer in the mood to savor the view I earned through hard work and dedication.
What did that even get me?
Nothing.
No pets, no life partner, no children. Just a confirmed bachelor who, apparently, comes off as bitter and jaded.
Great.
Fucking great.
Here I thought I was doing fine…
Now that all this is fresh on my mind, I shoot Penelope Halbrook a text.
Me: Alright—one thing we didn’t do when we were making this bet is lay down terms. Let’s name some.
It takes her a good ten minutes to reply.
Penelope: Well. Considering the goal here is to see you happy, with someone who MAKES you happy… let me think about this.
Me: Why does everyone keep saying I’m not happy?
Penelope: What do you mean? Who else called you miserable?
Me: I never said anything about miserable—I said “not happy.”
Penelope: Is there a difference?
Me: YES! BUT WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK I’M SO UNHAPPY?
Penelope hasn’t known me long. She’s only come back into Jack Jennings’s life recently after breaking up with him in college seven years ago and reconnecting just recently.
But I knew as soon as I met her that she had a pure heart and wouldn’t hurt a fly.
Pure heart? Yuck.
I gag in my mouth before reading her reply.
Penelope: Fine. Maybe you’re doing fine outwardly, but don’t we all want someone to love us?
Me: You read too many romance novels…
Penelope: Um. Romance novels are fuel for the soul, didn’t you know that?
Me: Sure. Whatever you say, Penn…Now. About those stakes?
Penelope: Let me have a quick chat with Jack and see what he thinks.
I wait an entire hour, going back into my penthouse to get ready for bed. It’s early still, but I have meetings in the morning and have to be at the office long before, so I go through the motions of brushing my teeth and doing my face and avoiding my reflection in the mirror.
“I’m not miserable,” I grumble to myself miserably. “What an insult.”
Hmph.
Penelope: Alright. Are you ready?
Me: As I’ll ever be…
Penelope: Okay so—at the Super Bowl this year, you told me that you would never be tied down, and I said “want to make a bet?” Correct?
Me: That is correct.
Penelope: And you said yes—you liked a challenge, so here we are. I consider you officially dating someone as “being tied down” or at least being committed to one person. Not necessarily engaged or in love or walking down the aisle—but committed. You don’t want to sleep around, and you don’t want her seeing other people, either.
Me: That sounds reasonable.
Penelope: Good. So. In the event that you find someone and are SMITTEN—
Me: No one says smitten anymore, but carry on.
Penelope: In the event that you find someone and are SMITTEN, it would be cheating for you NOT to tell Jack and me about it because you don’t want to lose. Agreed?
Me: I would never lie to Jack.
Penelope: Great. I’ll hold you to that because now we have it in writing.