Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
My eyes move to the time. I expected him back by now.
He rushed out of here after setting my computer on the extra desk he had, saying he had work. He’s been gone for nine hours—not that I’m tracking or anything.
I exhale before I tell Ralph, “Book him, Detective.”
“Will do. Thanks again, Ms. Brooks.”
“Anytime.”
I hang up and glance back at the time. Is he still at work? Is he out with Ava? The jealousy that burns through my body is downright pathetic, but I can’t help it. I don’t want him with her. I want him here with me. While he’s mine in my head, he isn’t mine in the real world. Since I can’t live in dreamland, I gotta live in reality and fix what I broke.
Tough pill to swallow. Thank fuck, I’m a badass bitch.
I spin my phone on the desk, biting the inside of my lip as I wait for my balls to drop to call him. I haven’t called him in three years. I’ve texted him on his birthday and on holidays, but never called. I also haven’t been back, and here I am.
So, get it together, Emery. Call your man.
I pick up the phone and go to my favorites, and he still sits at the top. Where he belongs. I hit his name, and with each passing ring, my heart tightens further in my chest. Is he going to ignore my call? He’s probably in surgery. Shit. I should—
Before I can finish that thought, his voice comes over the line. “Em?”
I clear my throat, trying to remember how to speak, but damn if his deep voice isn’t all sexy and rough. Like he has had a tough day and needs me to make it better.
But then I consider I may be the reason for his bad day.
Ignoring that thought, I say, “Hey! I was about to start dinner. I got some shrimp that I was going to grill up with some pasta.” When he doesn’t answer or even comment, I add, “When do you think you’ll be home?”
He lets out a long breath, and I swear I can see his face tightening up while his brows crash together. “Not sure. Not for a while. I’m going over to Posey’s for dinner.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I can bring you back some food, so you don’t have to cook.”
Before I can agree to that and let him know I appreciate the gesture, I say, “Or I can come too.”
“What?”
“I haven’t seen Posey in a while, and I’d love to see Zac again.” Quinn’s silent on the other end, and I almost backpedal, but that’s not who I am. “I can meet you over there, so you don’t have to run home to get me.”
“You want to go to my sister’s, when the last time she saw you, she told you to leave me alone?”
I tsk. “Emotions were high. Posey loves me.”
There is a pregnant pause before he says, “I don’t know, Em. I’ve had a rough day, and Posey has too. I don’t need your drama added in there.”
I scrunch up my face. “Rude. I am not drama. I’m a great time.”
“A dramatic great time, sure.”
“Quinnifer! Why are you being mean?”
He scoffs. “I’m just telling the truth.”
“No. All lies.” I chuckle softly. “I swear I’ll be good. I just want to see Posey and eat some food.”
“Or put yourself around me twenty-four seven,” he accuses, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Um, that’s not doable. One, you’re very engaged. And two, you work, and so do I.”
He actually laughs, a real one that has my stomach doing flips. He mutters, “Very engaged,” and I giggle, pleased with myself. My favorite thing to do is laugh with him. He has the best laugh. It’s all deep and throaty. It’s almost as hot as when he finds his pleasure.
His moan.
God.
I’d pay to hear it.
Or do some real shady shit.
Or even insert myself into every aspect of his life to remind him how great we are together.
Like before.
How our future should be.
The two of us.
Before I start planning our wedding, which would be the exact opposite of his and Ava’s, I say, “So, should I head over? She moved, didn’t she?”
“Yeah. Closer to my mom.”
“Oh, can you send me the address?” Once more, he pauses, and I make a face. “Why so quiet? You’re never this quiet.”
“Because, unlike when we were younger, I have to think before I act with you. Since I’m very engaged.”
I roll my eyes. “Quinn, please. Nothing has changed between us.”
This time, he doesn’t hesitate. “Three years, Em. Three. Not minutes, days, or months. It was years. A lot has changed. We’ve changed.”
“Sure,” I agree. “But our relationship is the same.”
“We don’t have a relationship,” he says, and it’s like a knife to my heart. But instead of hiding his knife in an egg, he holds it close for his next cut. “I don’t even know if we’re friends.”