Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“He’s not coming home?” My voice cracks, betraying my hurt.
“No. He wanted a few more days.”
“Where is he?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“We need to speak, Antony. It’s urgent. I’ve been worried out of my head.”
“Trust me, I think it’s best you just stay away from him.”
“Is he all right?”
“He’s fine.”
The rain begins to really come down.
“What does that mean?” I call over the rain.
“It means he’s fine,” he snaps in frustration. “I’m sorry, but if you expect me to have sympathy for you, Rebecca, I just don’t. You’ve broken his fucking heart.”
I step back from him and nod my head. The rain is heavy and loud.
Henley pulls onto the street and drives into his driveway. The garage door slowly goes up, and he drives in. No wave, no hello.
Just a whole lot of disappointment.
“I’ve got to get going,” Antony calls. “Go in out of the rain and try and get some rest.”
“Can you tell me where he is? Please?”
“He’s safe. That’s all you need to know.”
“Does he hate me?” My eyes search his.
He exhales sadly. “Bec . . . I don’t know what’s going on, but . . . just give him some time, okay?”
My eyes well with tears. “Okay, thanks for bringing my car back.”
Without another word, he sprints across the lawn and into his house, and I sit down on the front steps and watch the rain come down.
Sopping wet and with nowhere to go, I pray for a miracle.
I stand behind the pole in the parking lot. I never saw myself as much of a stalker, but he’s giving me no choice.
It’s Thursday, and Blake hasn’t come home.
He won’t answer my calls, he doesn’t reply to my texts, and quite frankly, I’m going out of my mind.
I’m waiting at the hospital for him to arrive at work in the parking lot by his car space. It’s 7:00 a.m., and if this is the only way that I can speak to him, then so be it.
Late Sunday night, I saw Blake’s Porsche leave his house with Antony and Henley inside. They obviously took him work clothes and his car, and it seems that I’m the street pariah.
They are both openly angry with me, and I guess I would be, too, if someone did this to my friend.
But to not even want to talk about it? I’m getting kind of pissed. He’s acting like a two-year-old.
I see his car come through the boom gates, and I clutch my handbag. I wait for it to pull into his parking spot, and then I scooch down and run around to the passenger side. I open the door and dive in and close the door behind me. His face falls when he sees me.
“Hi, Blake.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I need to see you.”
“I don’t want to see you.”
“Can we talk?”
“There’s nothing to say.” He stares out through the front window.
“Blake.”
He keeps his vision straight ahead.
“Can you look at me?”
He drags his eyes to meet mine. “What do you want?”
“I want to explain a few things.”
“It’s fine, Rebecca. I know how you feel. You don’t need to explain anything.”
“But you don’t know how I feel. I was just so shocked, and there’s some things that you don’t understand about my situation that just complicate everything, and I’m scared to tell you.”
“Like what?”
I pick up my bag by the strap and accidentally tip it over. Everything goes flying onto the floor. I scurry down to pick up the contents, and Blake bends and picks up a lipstick and hairbrush and passes them over.
I give him the folded-up piece of paper, and he takes it off me. “What’s this?”
“Open it.”
He unfolds the piece of paper and his eyes scan over it. He frowns. “I don’t understand.”
My heart is beating hard and fast. “In order to keep my house, John made me sign a contract to enforce that I couldn’t divorce him for five years.”
His eyes rise to meet mine before returning to the piece of paper. “You signed this?”
Panic sets in.
“It was the only way I could secure my house, Blake. You have to understand, this has nothing to do with me and you. This is about him blackmailing me.”
He drags his hand through his hair and lets out a low, long sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because I didn’t want to fight about it.”
“Because you didn’t want to fight about it, or because you knew it was the wrong thing to do?”
“I didn’t think you’d want to get married, Blake. Especially this soon.”
“Why the fuck would you think that?” he barks.
The venom in his voice makes me tear up. “Can you please not be angry?”
“Not be angry?” he cries. “Why do you think you signed this contract, Rebecca?”
“To keep my house,” I splutter.
“Not even by a long shot.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you. I know you better than anyone, maybe even more than you know yourself. You signed this contract because you still want to be married to him.”