Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
She steps closer to me. “I’m looking right at him, Sinclair. He’s looking right at you.”
The champagne flute in my hand falls to the polished concrete, shattering into countless pieces that rain glass over my shoes.
I stare at the mess at my feet, stunned not only by how that slipped away from me but also by Molly’s words.
“Are you all right?” Her hand brushes my shoulder. “You’re pale. Do you feel okay?”
“He…he can’t… Jameson can’t be here,” I stumble through the words with panic lacing my voice. “Donna told me he RSVPed with a no.”
“That no is now a yes because Jameson Sheppard is right behind you, and he looks even better than I remember.”
CHAPTER TWO
Sinclair
I refuse to turn around even though it’s all I want to do.
I haven’t seen Jameson since he left me standing on a corner in the middle of a summer thunderstorm.
The anger in the clouds mirrored the look on his face when I told him I couldn’t do something he desperately wanted me to do. I don’t know if he could tell that tears were streaming down my face since the rain was falling on me.
I doubt if my emotional state at that moment mattered to him.
I felt horrible for denying Jameson anything since he’d always gone to bat for me.
When I was stranded in Germany because I’d lost my passport, Jameson flew there to comfort me and help me wade through the bureaucratic nightmare to get home.
He was there to congratulate me when I finished my first ghostwritten book. He bought me a dozen cookies shaped like ghosts and a bouquet of lilies to commemorate the importance of the day.
We sat on a bench in Central Park while he interrogated me about the book’s subject, while I evaded every question by shoving another cookie into my mouth.
I thought we’d be friends forever, but life had a different plan for us.
“He has a tan,” Molly whispers. “His hair is shorter. He’s super hot, Sinclair. I’m talking hotter than he was in high school.”
It’s hard to picture that, but I try.
Jameson has always been the best-looking guy I’ve ever known. With his dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes, he’s impossible to ignore. I used to tease him about that, and his response was always the same. He’d laugh it off and tell me that I was the most beautiful person on the face of the earth.
I could never tell if he was using that as a way to deflect my compliment or if he really viewed me that way.
“He’s still the same Jameson inside,” I murmur. “That will never change.”
“He has stubble on his jaw.” Her voice carries through the room. “I know how much you like it when a guy has that.”
I glance her way because what the hell is she talking about?
Oblivious to the look of horror on my face, Molly rambles on, her descriptive notes becoming a hell of a lot more personal. “He must work out. I swear he’s more muscular than he was the last time I saw him. He’s wearing a suit. It’s a very nice suit. I can tell that his biceps are bigger, and his shoulders are…”
“Quiet,” I bite the word out through clenched teeth. “Please, Molly, stop.”
She finally shifts her gaze from Jameson to me. “Are you all right? You look pale.”
“I have to use the washroom.” It’s a half-lie.
I need a hiding place, and since the washroom is just around the corner, it’ll do.
Molly looks at a server rushing toward us with a broom and dustpan in his hands. When she turns her attention back to me, her voice is soft. “Step carefully over the glass, Sin.”
I take her offered hand because I need to feel grounded. I keep my gaze on her face as I step around the shards of glass.
“I’ll get this cleaned up in no time.” The server shoots us a wary smile. “No one got hurt, did they?”
“Not by the glass,” I whisper.
I am hurt. I’ve been swimming in that hurt for two years, and now the shark that bit me is back.
“Let’s go.” Molly tugs at my hand. “The coast is clear. Jameson disappeared into thin air.”
I finally steal a glance over my shoulder. “Just like he did two years ago.”
“Sinclair,” Molly whispers as she digs her index finger into my forearm. “I lost count, but that glass of champagne in your hand is one too many.”
I hold the glass in the air just inches from my lips. “It’s my third.”
“No.” Her head shakes. “It’s at least your fifth.”
A bubble of broken laughter sputters out of me, turning every head at the table in my direction.
I know all four of the people sitting with Molly and me. The head cheerleader from our high school is here. The star quarterback is seated next to her with his wife, who used to be the captain of the debate team, and our former history teacher is beside me. Since she took her assigned seat, she hasn’t stopped insisting that we all call her Glenda instead of Miss Runson.