Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
This time I’m making simple tacos with homemade guacamole. No margaritas as I can’t drink alcohol until I finish my pain meds.
I turn the TV on to keep me company while I cook. Right now it’s a commercial for dog food. A different brand from the stuff I buy Rita. I know the jingle by heart, though. I sing along to it as I mash some avocadoes.
Then the commercial cuts short and the musical intro to the evening news plays.
I ignore it and add a couple tablespoons of olive oil to my guac.
I’m chopping up some cilantro when I hear a familiar name on the TV.
“Benjamin Black, the younger brother of the famous blue-collar billionaire Braden Black…”
Ben’s in the news?
But he’s a pretty famous guy, especially in Boston. His name is probably in the news all the time. This is just the first time it’s happened since we met.
I return to my preparations.
“Allegations made by Garrett Ramirez…”
I nearly drop my chef’s knife.
What about that asshole?
I thought he was out of my life.
I walk into the living room and take a seat.
“Mr. Ramirez, who is currently awaiting trial for assault and battery of Ms. Tessa Logan, who is currently dating Mr. Black, claims to have evidence that Mr. Black is responsible for the death of Mr. Travis McKee, who escaped from the Massachusetts Correctional Institution fifteen years ago…”
The words slow down, are drawn out, as if seeping out like blood oozing from a wound.
My breath catches in my throat, but I close my eyes, force it out slowly. My stomach knots, and a mix of nausea and disbelief make my legs cramp, my arms turn to jelly. This can’t be happening. My thoughts race as I try to process what I’m hearing through the garbled words on television.
Garrett and David weren’t making it up.
Or if they were, they’ve gone public with it anyway. If they have enough evidence for the evening news to take this seriously, then…
I have to call Ben. I swallow, force my body to work.
I grab my phone and—
Ben: I’m sorry. I can’t make it tonight.
Of course he can’t. He’s probably on the phone with his lawyers right now.
Or the authorities.
My stomach twists further into knots.
If I want to talk to him, I’ll have to go to his house. He may not be there, but I’ll wait. He’ll have to show up eventually.
I breathe in, shaking out my arms. I needed Ben’s strength. Now he needs mine.
I hastily pack up the dinner, give Rita a quick kiss goodbye, and hail a cab.
Thirty minutes later, I’m knocking on Ben’s door, a bag of food in one hand and the pearl inside the small silk bag in the other.
“Ben, it’s me!” I yell. “Open up!”
He doesn’t answer.
Oh, God. Has he been arrested already?
I pound on the door. “Ben!”
Still no answer.
Fuck it, I’ll break in if I have to. This is the man I love. And damn it, this time he’ll listen when I say those three words.
I check some of the windows by the front door. All locked. I walk around his massive yard to the back of the house. I eye the security cameras as I walk through.
If they alert him to my presence, all the better.
I make it to Ben’s back door and try it. It opens, thank God.
I run inside. “Ben, are you here?”
Silence.
I run upstairs. One door is closed.
I knock. “Ben?”
No answer.
I try the door. It’s locked.
He must be in here. The door doesn’t lock from the outside.
And he wouldn’t have left his back door open if he wasn’t home.
“Ben!”
Silence.
Fuck it. He can afford to fix the door.
I throw my entire body against the hard wood. Once, twice, three times.
I rub the ache springing up in my shoulder as I lift my right foot in the air, ready to try to kick the door down, but—
It opens instead.
There stands Ben, looking luscious in jeans, a white T-shirt, and nothing else. Even his feet are bare. But something is definitely wrong. His dark eyes are sunken and…tormented.
“Tessa, what are you doing?”
I collapse into his chest. “I thought they’d gotten you!”
Ben rubs his eyes. “Who?”
I sob. “The cops.”
“Why would the cops…” His face darkens. “Oh.”
We stand there in silence for a moment. Then he grabs me by the shoulders. “Tessa, we need to talk.”
I lift my head from his chest. “I brought the dinner I made. We can talk after we eat.”
“No, we can’t.”
“Ben, we’ve been through too much together to—”
He quiets me with two fingers to my lips. I pucker and kiss the tips.
“Fuck, Tessa.”
“Fine.” I whip my hands to my hips. “Tell me what happened with that escaped con. Tell me if you’re going to go to prison. Tell me if you want to end things between us.”
“I love you,” he says.
“And I love—”
His hand goes over my mouth again, and I bite his finger.