Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
“I get it now,” Dad says as he watches me devour the cake.
“Get what?” I ask through a mouthful of truffle goodness.
“Why you needed to leave me.”
The frank words and slightly sorrowful way he voices them send an arrow of pain to my heart.
“Dad— ” I start to object.
“No, I understand, kiddo,” he presses on. “I see it now. Thanks to me, your knowledge of the world before you moved here was… secondhand, I think is a good word for it. But how could you ever learn to take care of yourself, stand on your own two feet, if I didn’t let you start living?”
“I think I’m getting there. The standing-on-my-own-twofeet part.”
And I think I’ve done well. I left my safe, secure bubble in Nashville and entered a whole new world. I navigated a new city. Discovered the real struggles that come with having roommates. I made friends, real friends, who aren’t part of my father’s social circle or sealed in the same enclave of rich, rural Tennessee.
“Granted, I also made a ton of mistakes,” I confess, reaching for my water glass. “Lied to you. Got tangled up in a love triangle. Naively fell victim to a scoundrel like Ben Tulley.”
“You’ve made mistakes,” he agrees. “That just means you’re doing it right. The living part.”
The rest of the evening passes way too fast, and before I know it, it’s midnight and I’m on my front stoop, hugging my father goodbye. With a final wave, he slides into the back seat of a town car and is whisked off to the airport.
A rush of sadness washes over me as I step inside and make my way upstairs. When I enter my room, I find Jack leaning against my dresser.
I stiffen, my chest instantly going tight with emotion. A knot of anger and sadness. A deep stab of hurt.
“What are you doing in here?” I mutter, staring at my feet.
“I know you’re still mad at me, but…am I at least allowed to say happy birthday?”
My head swings in his direction. “Who told you?”
“I overheard your dad talking to someone on the phone about the kind of birthday cake to serve at your dinner.” Jack holds my gaze. “I get why you didn’t want to make a fuss. I mean, Lee, right? But I’m glad you had a good birthday.”
He takes a step forward, arms coming up slightly as if he’s going to hug me.
“Don’t,” I warn.
But he walks to the doorway instead, where he pauses for several seconds, his expression growing more and more tormented.
“What can I do to earn your trust back?” he asks.
Sadness washes over me. “I don’t know.”
“Then it’s over? Just like that?”
“It? What exactly was it, Jack? Were we together? Were we ever even headed for a relationship? Because the way I see it, you didn’t care that I was seeing Nate— ”
“I cared,” he interjects.
“—and you didn’t define anything. And now I know why. Because it wasn’t real.”
“It was real, Abbey.” His voice is husky.
“I don’t know if I believe that.”
“Then let me prove it to you.”
“I…” I blink to keep the tears at bay. “I can’t. You’re asking if we can go back to that relationship place when I don’t even know if we can fix the friendship part.”
He gives me a pained look. “Don’t say that. We are friends. That hasn’t changed.”
“Go, Jack. Please. I need space. I’ve barely had a minute alone to sit with this since I found out the truth. So just let me be, okay?”
He exhales. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
“Okay.” He steps toward the doorway, then glances over his broad shoulder, his blue eyes veiled. “Happy birthday, Abbs.”
After he’s gone, I lie on my bed and stare up at the ceiling. With a cranky wail, Hugh jumps up beside me and proceeds to swipe at strands of my hair while I do my best to ignore the agony clamped around my heart.
It serves me right that I’m lying here alone with an obstinate cat that’s one tantrum away from chewing my throat out and making its nest in my entrails. A girl should know better than to hang her hopes on a man.
Or two, for that matter.
FEBRUARY
44
Nate: I hate this. I miss talking to you. I miss everything about you.
Me: I’m sorry.
Nate: You don’t miss me? Not even a little bit?
Me: You know I do. But we’re not seeing each other anymore, and I can’t be your friend right now. Not while I still have feelings for you.
Jack: Lee wants to know what you want for dinner.
Me: Then he can text me himself.
45
Jack: So that’s it, we’re going to keep tiptoeing around each other like this?
Me: I’m not tiptoeing. I’m just living my life.
Jack: Living your life avoiding me.
Jack: I get it. I deserve it.
Me: Don’t put this on me. You’re the one who’s up every morning before everyone and out the door, then back after everyone’s gone to bed or secluding yourself in your room.