Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Jesus Christ,” Ryleigh swears, reaching over and grabbing the glass out of Sofia’s hand and taking a shot. “I don’t know what I would have done.”
“I know what you would have done,” Gabriella says, “and there would be pieces of him scattered along the way.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Zoey snaps. “Zara.”
My body shakes but not in the part where I’m going to collapse. No, in the part where I have to move. “He was fucking her on my bed!” I roar.
“Dear Lord,” Sofia observes, taking a shot of the tequila, “someone woke the beast. This isn’t good.” I see them exchanging looks.
“In my fucking bed.” I point at myself. “On my fucking favorite duvet!”
“Should I call anyone?” Nash leans over to ask Zoey, who just shakes her head.
“He said, ‘we can talk’?” I repeat as I walk wildly around the room. “Like, it’s a onetime thing and not that he was with her for three fucking years.” I throw up my hands. “During our whole relationship, he’s been fucking both of us.” The phone rings again, and I stomp over to it, seeing it’s him again.
“What?” I answer.
“Oh, God, Zara, I was so worried,” he says breathlessly.
“How worried?” I ask, looking down at the phone and putting him on speaker.
“I was out looking for you.” He sounds like he’s panting.
“Obviously, you weren’t trying really fucking hard since you didn’t fucking find me.”
“Snap,” Ryleigh adds.
“So how hard were you looking, Daniel?” I ask him.
“We have to talk,” he says.
“I’m pretty sure all the talking we had to do has been done,” I inform him. “I need to come and get my things,” I tell him of a plan I didn’t even know I was doing.
“Can we talk when you come home?”
“No, considering you won’t be there.” I laugh. “And if you are there, I’m going to burn every single thing I look at that is yours.”
“I didn’t hear that,” Ryleigh states, looking around. “She did not just threaten him.” I look at her. “You can’t threaten him,” she whispers, and I roll my eyes.
“I’m not threatening him.” I look at Ryleigh. “I’m not threatening you, Daniel. I’m merely stating that if I come home tomorrow from ten a.m. to one p.m. and you are there, I’m going to burn all your shit.” I shrug. “I might do it even if you aren’t there.”
“Zara, please, we can work this out,” he pleads, and Sofia pffts.
“How do you think we can work this out?” I ask, but I’m not actually waiting for him to answer me because I know, deep in my heart, I’ll never, ever forgive him. “Should we work this out, and you keep fucking Sarah?” I ask. “Like, how would it work?”
“If you want me to stop seeing her”—he exhales deeply—“then I will do that.”
I can’t help but fucking laugh. “That is so kind of you,” I say sarcastically, “but you can totally keep fucking her until your dick falls off. I’ll be there tomorrow between ten and one, and I don’t want you there. You can go and sit with your girlfriend while you tell her husband you might be the kids’ father.”
“It’s not like that,” he retorts. “I don’t want kids with her. I want kids with you. I want to marry you.”
“Do you know how sick and disgusting that is?”
“With Sarah, it was just fucking.” He tries to plead his case.
“How many times?” I ask, and I can feel everyone’s eyes in the room go big. “On average, how many times a week would you fuck her?”
“I don’t know,” he huffs. “Does it matter?”
“It does to me.” I don’t even know why I’m asking him this, but I suddenly need to know how much of my life was a lie.
“Four, maybe seven, times a week,” he shares, and I gasp. Trying to see how he could fuck her seven times a week and maybe get it up only a couple of times for me, but now it all makes sense. “They were just for relief.”
“Where?” I don’t want to hear his stupid excuses. “Where did you fuck her? Was it at our house? Her house?”
“Zara,” he says my name, and I cringe.
“Where?” I hiss out.
“A bit of both, really,” he finally gives in. “Our house, her house, the office, when we would go away.”
“Jesus, no wonder you wouldn’t be in the mood when you were with me.” I shake my head. “Red flag number one.” I laugh. “Am I right?”
“Zara, I love you.”
“Good, I’m glad,” I tell him. “Now, tomorrow between ten and one.”
“We need to talk.”
“We just did,” I inform him. “There really isn’t anything else left to say. I think we said it all.”
“The wedding,” he finally says. “I want to marry you.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I ask. “Like, seriously, did your dick steal all your brain cells? You don’t think I’d actually marry you after all of this.”