Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Her messages were garbled and muffled. All I could glean was that she had to go back because her parents and her sister were threatened with eviction. What I didn’t understand was why it took Hollie to fly five thousand miles to sort it out. Her parents and Autumn were adults.
Instinctively, I pressed call, even though I knew she’d be in the air. A phone rang in the kitchen. I followed the sound and found Hollie’s Daniels & Co phone on the counter. Locked.
I didn’t even have her US mobile number.
I scrolled through my phone, looking for Autumn’s number then realized we’d only communicated by email about Hollie’s birthday. We’d never actually spoken.
I wandered through my apartment, looking for signs that she was coming back, but her mobile and four still-covered dresses for tonight’s event told a different story.
There was nothing left of Hollie in London.
Twenty-Nine
Dexter
I stepped out of the cab with the feeling I’d left something vital behind at home. But Hollie wasn’t back at my flat. I checked my watch. She’d have landed by now and I still hadn’t heard anything.
This evening was meant to be different. I’d thought I was going to introduce her to my brother.
I tried to shake it off, put on my best poker face, as I pushed the revolving door into the lobby. Near the check-in desk stood a woman whose profile looked familiar. Her hair was a chestnut brown bob and she was a little taller than Hollie. And then she turned in my direction.
Bridget.
My heart began to pound as if I’d been searching for buried treasure for a decade and my spade had just hit gold.
She looked at me with no recognition in her eyes, turned and started toward the bank of lifts.
“Bridget,” I called after her. I couldn’t let her walk away without saying something.
She stopped and turned around. Narrowing her eyes, she took two steps toward me. “Dexter? Oh my God, how are you?”
“Hi,” I said, bending to kiss her on both cheeks, preparing myself to touch her for the first time in so long. But when my lips reached her cheek, there was no longing, no physical reaction at being so close to her after so long. “It’s been awhile. How are you?”
“Great,” she said smiling. “You look good. But then you always did. What are you up to?”
“Here for an event in the ballroom.” This stilted small talk was odd, considering this was the woman I’d long considered the love of my life.
“Explains the bowtie,” she said. “I’m meeting a girlfriend for drinks downstairs.”
“Shall I walk you down?” I offered.
She shrugged. “If you like.”
We headed over to the lifts in silence and I glanced over at her, trying to remember what about her had been so special. “Are you still a tennis fan?” I asked.
“More of a spectator these days,” she replied. “Although I do play occasionally.”
The lift pinged open and I followed her inside.
As the doors closed, she looked up at me. “Dexter, I should have said something years ago when . . . your parents, you know. I’m really sorry I wasn’t more supportive to you when they died.” Her mouth twitched and she shifted her handbag from one shoulder to the other. “It was just that things had been so casual between us and then this huge thing happened to you and I couldn’t handle it.”
Had I been so lost during that time that I didn’t remember anything about our relationship? David had the impression Bridget was no one special to me and now Bridget herself was saying the same thing. “It’s fine,” I said, confused and hoping she’d elaborate. “I can’t quite recall the details.”
“Well, I’m not proud of myself,” she said. “I shouldn’t have just finished things with you when you needed someone.”
I’d always thought I’d broken up with her, messed it up by being stubborn and stupid. Bridget clearly had a different view of what had happened between us.
“It was a long time ago,” I replied.
Part of me wanted to probe, dig deeper, ask more about her memories from that time. They seemed so completely opposite from what I recalled. But here we were—two almost strangers. It didn’t seem right to ask someone who didn’t know me about the most difficult time in my life.
“It was,” she replied. “That doesn’t make it right. You had your friends though.”
I smiled. “I did. I still do, actually. The six of us are still close.”
She turned toward me. “Wow. That’s really nice.”
More than nice, but if Bridget wasn’t lucky enough to have friendships as strong as mine then I wasn’t going to make her feel bad about it. I had the most incredible life with the most incredible people in it. I had nothing to regret or feel bad about.
Whatever had happened between us all those years ago just didn’t matter.