Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
I grab both her wrists, grip them so tight she winces and cries out, and then I pull her right up to my chest, forcing her to look me in the eyes. “I will not get out.” My voice is even now, my tone low and calm. “I will not. Get out. Because I love you. And this is my last day with you. And I’m gonna miss you. I’m going to wake up tomorrow and have nothing to live for. Because you, Clara, have been my reason to live since I was a little boy. Everything I’ve done, I did for you.”
She yanks back, trying to free her wrists from my grip, her face still hard and angry. “Is that your reason for fucking me like a whore today?”
I actually laugh out loud. “Whore?” Then I narrow my eyes, the heat creeping up my spine as her accusation fully sinks in. The words come out before I can stop them. And the worst thing is, they are easy words that send all the wrong signals. “Well, you seemed to have a good time, so…”
She wriggles in my grip, itching to slap me again. But I keep hold of both her wrists, staring directly into her eyes, as I speak. “Do not ever hit me again.” And these words do not come out easy. They come out like a threat.
She recoils, like I scared her, which is not what I was trying to do, so I let go of her wrists. Immediately she turns and walks to the other side of the room, picking up a silk throw and wrapping it around her upper body to cover her nakedness, the glow she was just displaying gone now. She points at the door and speaks very calmly. “Get out.”
I shake my head. “No, Clara. I’m not getting out. I’m staying right here. And I don’t care if we spend our last day together spitting insults and hating one another, I’m staying right here.”
She wants to cry. Her face is bright red and her eyes are glassy and bloodshot. She wants to fall into my arms and sob. And beg for me to save her. And hope that there is some way to stop our dreams from dying before we ever even had a chance. She wants to cry because this is it. This is all we get. This one stupid day. And it’s not enough. Especially when we had ten years and all we did was piss them away, thinking we always had tomorrow.
Well, we were wrong. We made all the wrong choices, we prioritized all the wrong things, and the realization that this day is happening right now because of the choices we made is a bitter pill to swallow.
After several seconds of silence and staring, Clara lets out a breath. “If you love me, you have a very funny way of showing it.” And then the tears once again start falling down her cheeks. She doesn’t sob, though. Up until yesterday, Clara Birch was never a woman who felt sorry for herself. She was always acutely aware of her privilege. She was, perhaps, the most poised, proper and polite of them all. A perfect Spark Maiden. Not one black mark against her good name in all those ten years she was on display.
It’s just… a lot. The last couple of days have been an absolute nightmare.
And I’m admittedly not handling it well either.
It’s my job to keep her steady. It’s my job to keep her safe. And I’ve failed on both accounts. My erratic behavior, my anger, the rough sex—it’s done nothing but pile onto the realization that everything she thought was true is not.
I exhale and bow my head. “I’m sorry. I’m making everything worse here. I’ve said all the wrong things, I’ve behaved out of character, and I’m just…” I look up at her again. Her face is all crumpled up with sadness now. Not fear, though I’m sure she’s still very much afraid of what’s coming, just sadness. “I’m just… a huge disappointment and I’m sorry, Clara.” I shrug. “That’s all I can say.”
I have an urge to walk out now. To be alone so I can grieve my dead father and wallow in my own self-pity about having to send the woman I love into the arms of a sadistic god. But that’s not me. I’m not a man who walks out.
So I don’t. I walk over to her instead, expecting her to push me away, because that’s what I deserve, to be honest. But she doesn’t recoil. She lets me wrap my arms around her and then she sinks into my chest and just lets me hold her as she cries.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I’m crying, and sad, and depressed, and hopeless—I know I feel all these things. But there’s a blankness inside me as well. An emptiness. A void begging me to push reality away and concentrate on the dream holding me in his arms instead.