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)
But instead, I threw up walls and played cat and mouse with him for over a year.
My eyes cloud before the tears start to fall.
I don’t love you.
The words play over and over in my head. Four words I never thought I’d hear him say. I just don’t understand how this has happened, and I can’t bring myself to believe it. He said the words, but his actions are saying something completely different. I was drunk, out of my mind, but I knew when he came to get me. I know he carried me to and from the car. Since I don’t smell like puke, I know he showered me and dressed me. That he left the aspirin and water for me. If he truly didn’t love me, why would he do those things?
But then, I can’t forget that we do have a bond of friendship between us. He wouldn’t let anyone he cares about lie in their puke. It’s not who he is. He’s known me since I was a toddler. He would do the same for Katarina. I’m not special.
I don’t love you.
The words haunt me as I roll over, cuddling deeper in the pillows and blankets. I decide to allow myself to wallow in my pity for another hour before I get up to face life. To face him. I heard him moving around in the bathroom over an hour ago, then heading out, probably to go to the gym downstairs. Now, I know he’s in the kitchen, but I don’t know how I am going to look at him after last night. I need to thank him, but I’m still so hurt by his words.
His truth.
I deserve this, honestly. After what I did, after I threw up my walls and ran, I shouldn’t be surprised. I made him feel like he wasn’t enough for me, so what in God’s name makes me think I am the better choice over Ava? He’s obviously devoted to her. A devotion I threw back in his face when he asked me to love him. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am just mad that he is marrying someone other than me.
But it doesn’t feel that way.
It hurts.
Not just the jealousy of someone else having him, but my heart hurts knowing his heart doesn’t sing for mine anymore. That he’ll never look at me the way he’ll look at his wife. That she’ll get to hear him say I do as he promises himself to her. That she’ll get his future, and I only have his past.
Damn it.
Another wave of tears flows down my face, and I hide them in the pillow. I don’t know from whom. Maybe myself since I hate crying. He’s the only guy I’ve ever cried over. I am well aware that I made this bed, that I molded this future, but fuck, let me have another go. I would do everything so differently. Even if being apart was too much for us, I would have done everything to stay in constant contact, instead of watching from afar. In my head, I know how I would have made it work. I would have flown to him, him to me. We’d have met halfway. FaceTime would have been our best friend. We would have spent holidays with our families, instead of me making every excuse for why I couldn’t come home.
I would have allowed myself to love him freely.
And I would have drowned in his love.
I truly fucked up, and he let me have it.
I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve lost him for good.
Chapter
Eighteen
Emery
When a knock sounds at my door, I look over my shoulder to see Quinn peek his head in. His gaze collides with mine, and my heart trips over itself. I sit up and adjust my shirt since it’s riding up.
When I look back at him, I don’t miss the way his jaw tightens. “Hey.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. My voice is scratchy. “Hey.”
“How you feeling?” he asks, coming inside and leaning against the dresser that’s by the door. He’s in his athletic gear, still sweaty from his workout, and I can just imagine how hot his body is now that he’s older and probably has so much more knowledge about fitness. His biceps bulge and his thighs flex as he leans, crossing his arms over his wide chest, looking way more like he belongs on the ice instead of in a surgery center.
Though, in my opinion, he belongs next to me, with snacks all around us as we write code.
But that will never be.
Maybe in another reality.
I can only hope.
I force a chuckle to keep the tears at bay. “Hungover.”
He nods slowly. “You were out of it and puked everywhere before I got there.”
“Yeah. I remember.”
Something flashes in his eyes. “Do you remember when we got back home?”