Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
He chuckles. “Just checking in on you both.” He turns and walks down the front steps, and I follow him out. “How’s she doing . . . really?” he asks.
I shrug as we get to the mailbox. “She’s okay. I guess she’s had time to get her head around this long before it was actually confirmed as true.”
He nods as he listens.
“She’s meeting with him this afternoon to discuss what’s happening with them, so I guess she will know more after that.”
“What a fucking idiot he is.” He shakes his head in disgust.
“I know.”
Henley’s front door opens, and we both look up. He walks out, wearing a perfectly fitted navy suit and a crisp white shirt. His back is ramrod straight. He glances over at us and nods but then keeps walking to his car. With my heart in my throat, I watch as he drives past us without so much as a wave.
My heart sinks. He really doesn’t care.
“Don’t mind him . . . he’s . . .” Blake shrugs. “Sorting through some stuff right now.”
I roll my lips so I don’t say something snarky.
“He’s a good man, Juliet.”
My eyes search his. “Is he?”
“Don’t give up on him.”
“He gave up on me.”
“Henley is”—he exhales heavily—“complicated.”
Suddenly I want all the information I can get from Blake. “How so?”
“It’s not for me to elaborate on . . . but just”—he shrugs—“give it some time.”
“Is there someone else?” I ask.
“God no.” He screws up his face. “It’s nothing like that.” He kisses my cheek. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Okay, thanks.” I watch as Blake crosses the cul-de-sac and gets into his new silver Porsche. It purrs like a kitten as he starts the engine. He waves happily as he drives off into the distance, and my mind wanders over his insight.
Don’t give up on him.
I wish it were that easy.
At 5:00 p.m., a text bounces through. It’s from Rebecca.
Can we go out for dinner and drinks.
I need to vent.
Shit. It must not have gone well. I reply.
Sounds good, I’ll book and call Chloe.
Seven ok?
Margaritas are on the menu.
I watch as her dots bounce.
Sounds great.
7:00 p.m.
I walk into the restaurant and see Chloe and Rebecca already at the table with margaritas in their hands. I did a four-hour shift at the retirement home this afternoon to cover for someone and am running late. They have started without me.
“Hey.” I smile as I take a seat.
“Welcome to the Man Haters Anonymous table.” Chloe holds her margarita up to me in a toast. “All men are fuckers,” she slurs.
I giggle and pick up the margarita that is waiting for me on the table. “How long have you two been here?”
“Long enough to establish that we hate men,” Chloe says in a way-too-loud voice.
Rebecca holds her glass up too. “Hear, hear.”
I giggle. “Well, just so happens I am the president of man hating, so I’m glad to be in good company.”
We clink our glasses in a toast.
“So . . .” I widen my eyes. “What happened?”
Rebecca rolls her lips. “He cheated because I wouldn’t give him anal.”
“What?”
“What a fucking idiot,” Chloe gasps. “I’m going to give him anal with a fucking mop handle.”
“What do you mean?” I stammer. “Explain everything to me. Where did you meet?”
“Okay.” Rebecca sips her drink. “We went to a coffee shop that we always go to. I wanted somewhere public that would force us to have a civilized conversation.”
“Sounds fair.” I listen intently.
“I told him that I needed complete honesty and that if he gave me that, then we may possibly work through this.”
“Right.” I frown. My eyes flick to Chloe, and she pulls her finger across her throat. “What happened?”
“He has been sleeping with her for over a year.”
“Fuck.”
“He says it’s just sex and that he is completely in love with me and had no intention of ever ending our marriage.”
“What a fucking idiot,” Chloe gasps. “I fucking hate this guy. Can we cut his dick off and feed it to the feral cats?”
I bubble up a giggle but try to hold it in. “Right.” I try to stay focused on being a good listener for Rebecca. “How did it start?”
“Get this,” Chloe slurs. She points her drink to me, and it sloshes over the side.
Rebecca leans in toward the table. “He said that he had always wanted anal sex.”
“Right.” I roll my lips. “Is that true?”
“It is, and to be fair, I wouldn’t even try it.”
“Okay.”
“He said that one day he was in the lunchroom with Mia, eating their lunch. They had become friends over time, and Mia said that she was having sexual problems with her boyfriend.”
I frown, and my eyes flick to Chloe, who is giving an overexaggerated eye roll. “Give me a fucking break,” she spits.
I giggle as I sip my drink. “Right. What kind of sexual problems? I’m-a-whorebag problems?”