Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Her phone rang, and Pollyanna answered it absently. “Hello?”
“Polly.”
Her heart stuttered to a stop.
It was Kyr.
Chapter Three
The quiet in his office was tomb-like, Kyr unable to breathe while he waited tensely for his wife to speak. The panoramic windows were completely covered by blinds, and the darkness only added to the room’s funereal atmosphere.
Since his family had left, Kyr had not returned to their home. He was certain if he did, it would only drive him crazy, remembering everything he had and knowing he was on the brink of losing it all.
If he hadn’t yet, he thought dully.
Seconds turned into a minute, and still there was nothing.
He almost started to speak when he heard it, that unmistakable catch of breath, and it ripped Kyr’s heart out of his chest.
She was trying to stop herself from crying.
His throat became tight. “I miss you, psaraki.”
Even in the darkness, images, memories, and visions danced before Kyr’s eyes.
His wife at eighteen-—
His wife when she was carrying the twins—-
His wife twenty years in the future—-
“I miss you so damn much.” And this time, his voice broke.
Pollyanna fought to keep her sobs down.
He missed her, he said.
He missed her.
How could he say that? How could she let herself believe that?
How?
The silence was like a brick tied around his neck, dragging him down, but he fought against his panic and forced himself to say his piece. “I promised myself I would never lie to you again, so I wanted to call you...” He had to pause, emotions making him feel like he was running out of oxygen.
Curling herself into a ball, Pollyanna listened to her husband speak, thinking numbly that there was a part of her questioning if this was real.
“I just wanted...to let you know how things have been...since you and the children left.”
His voice was stiff and guarded, his Greek accent unusually thick. He was acting like she had the power to hurt him, and she wanted to laugh and cry at how insane the thought was.
You can only hurt people who love you.
And Kyr didn’t love her.
Her heart ached so hard at the taunting reminder it had her fingers tightening in a fist against her chest.
And then she heard him say—-
“I met with—-”
Pollyanna didn’t think.
She simply ended the call.
But before she could even place her phone on the bedside table, her shoulders were already shaking, and she was sobbing hard.
That he would think she would want to hear anything about HER didn’t make sense, but it wasn’t what was making desperation claw up in her throat and her body curling into a smaller ball.
It was something else, something as inexplicable – something worse.
I still love him.
I still love him.
After everything, I still love him.
WHY?
Her phone suddenly vibrated, buzzing loudly and rattling against the wooden surface of the table.
It was a text from Kyr, and through her blurred gaze, she saw its preview flashing on the screen, and it had to be the longest message she had ever received from him.
In their eight years of marriage, she had developed the habit of texting him daily updates on everything that was happening with her day and the children’s, and Kyr would always reply with ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ Or when he was feeling talkative, she would receive an “I see.”
And yet now, he was making her phone buzz continuously, the previews of his multiple messages making her screen flash like Christmas lights.
Taking a deep breath, she reached shakily for her phone.
Kyr: I’m sorry for being insensitive, psaraki. But it is only because I have sworn never to lie to you again.
Kyr: It is the only reason why I wanted you to know I met with her the day you and the children left.
Kyr: I want you to know that I only met with her to make it clear that she is no longer and will never be a part of my life.
Kyr: I love you, psaraki, and I always will.
Kyr: I made that perfectly clear to her, too, psaraki. She knows where she stands.
Liar. She whispered the word in her mind as her phone’s screen became fuzzy under her tears.
Kyr: I have many things to explain, and I will tell you everything – anything – you want to know.
Kyr: Just let me talk to you, psaraki.
Kyr: I do not think it is adequate we exchange messages on the phone.
Pollyanna knew he was waiting for her answer, but she just couldn’t...move.
Kyr: May I call you again?
She didn’t answer still, but after a minute, her phone began to ring.
Kyr: Please, psaraki.
After having his call cancelled five times, his wife finally picked up on his sixth attempt, and he gripped his phone hard. “I am sorry for earlier, psaraki.”
He heard his wife inhale sharply. “Don’t call me that.”
Ah. Kyr stared unseeingly in the darkness. She had used to treasure that, used to tell him that it made her feel special to have Kyr call her by a special name even if – and she would always wrinkle her nose at this – there was nothing sexy about being a fish.