Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“Time?” He let out a chuckle. “They’re sending rapists to house arrest. Prisons in this state are overcrowded as it is. Ain’t nothing going to land you in jail unless you plan on going on a prolific killing spree.”
“A whole spree?” A mental vision of Cocksucker assaulted my brain. “Nah. Just one person. A crime of passion.”
“Passion, you say?” He sounded thoughtful. “Might get early parole for that. People love a good romance.”
I started for the stairway, having had enough of standing by Duffy’s door like an idiot.
“So, are you gonna tell me why we’re having this weird conversation?” Christian probed.
“Duffy isn’t answering her door or taking my calls.” I didn’t feel humiliated saying that. Not after this motherfucker jumped through hoops to win his wife after what he’d done to her back when they were dating.
“Oh, yeah, about that. You should probably come here.”
“Come where?” I took the stairs down.
“To my place.”
“Why?” I slapped the door open, already looking for a cab to hail. “You know something about that?”
“She left you a letter.”
“A letter?” My mind was reeling. She left me a fucking letter, and Christian didn’t see fit to fill me in on that?
“Yeah. Said she didn’t want to bother you while you were on an assignment.”
“Forget her, why didn’t you bother me?” I raged. “You sure as shit don’t mind bothering me about anything else that’s going on in your life. You called to tell me Louie started counting backward, for fuck’s sake.”
“Hmm. I’m picking up some high-stressed vibes here,” Christian said flatly. “To answer your question, according to you, there was never anything between you and Duffy, nor have you ever felt something more than friendship for her. I thought it could wait.”
Of course he knew Duffy and I were messing around and didn’t tell me about the letter just to win an unspoken argument about the importance of settling down and blah-blah-conservative-fucking blah. Classic goddamn Christian.
“I’m going to kill you.” I was now screaming in the middle of the street—definitely not a good look. In an unbelievably cunty move, I bypassed a Nordic-looking tourist who tried to hail a cab, entering before him and giving the driver Christian’s address.
“Wow. You really go ham for your platonic friends,” Christian said in a deadpan. “So when should we be expecting you?”
“Five to eight minutes.”
“I’ll cock the gun for you,” Christian said. “You know, for when you murder me.”
“Thank you.”
It wasn’t a letter.
It was a giant-ass pile of documents crammed into a manila envelope. The envelope was sealed securely, so at least I knew Christian and Arya hadn’t peeked. This wasn’t a given, since they were ogling me eagerly, little Louie sitting in Arya’s lap.
“Do I look like Netflix?” I carefully removed the handwritten letter from the envelope.
“Not at all.” Arya shook her head, mesmerized. “If you were, I could skip the intro. Unfortunately, I’ll have to sit here and watch in slo-mo until it finally hits you that you’ve just lost the love of your life because you’re a chicken.”
Know all the inspiring sayings about good friends? They did not apply to the assholes I surrounded myself with.
I’d have gone to another room for privacy purposes, but there was poetic justice in being served humble pie by my friends after all I’d done.
Dear Riggs,
If you’re reading this, that means you’re back from Sri Lanka. I hope you had a splendid time there, and that you were able to do what you love more than anything—explore and find new adventures.
Actually, as it turned out, there was something I loved more than that. Namely—Duffy.
Let me preface this by saying I don’t wish to appear ungrateful. On the contrary. In our short time together, I have managed to grow more than I have in my entire lifetime. I cannot thank you enough for the sacrifice, devotion, and commitment you’ve shown for me. I am truly grateful and beyond indebted to you.
Blah, blah, fucking blah. It reminded me of all the nice things people said to their partners before they dumped them for someone else. This reeked of “It’s not you, it’s me.”
As you know, I’ve recently come to find employment.
Only Duffy would sound like an eighteenth-century noblewoman when telling someone she got a job.
As it turns out, the position wasn’t what I’d been hoping for. I am not quite sure what I’m looking for, to be honest, which was why I thought it best to go back to London and stay with my family as I explore my passions and talents, and how to contribute to this world.
She moved? To London? I didn’t know how I felt about it. On one hand, I was greatly relieved she wasn’t with Cocksucker anymore. On the other, I felt weirdly naked, now that I knew she wasn’t in the same city as me. The one comfort I had in Sri Lanka was knowing where Duffy was. It gave me a false sense of control over the situation.