Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“No fucking way,” Chance barked into his cell. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with your sister, but I’m not an option. We had an agreement. You get your things, you leave…that’s it and—no. I’m not doing this again. Never again. Good-bye, Adam.”
The hard set of his jaw, the vise grip on his cell, and his angsty aura didn’t mesh with the cathedral’s serene ambience, I mused as a group of nuns ascended the steps to the entrance behind him.
“Hey, there.” I squeezed his shoulder in greeting and at the last second, leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Who’s Adam? Do I need to kick his ass?”
Chance pressed himself close and nuzzled my neck with a sigh. “If only it was that easy. There’s probably a rule about gay canoodling and swearing in front of Catholic establishments.”
I ignored his flippant reply and pulled away to give him a quick once-over. He looked sexy as hell in his navy suit, but the vaguely haunted sheen in his eyes bothered me. I had a sudden strong urge to fight unknown demons.
“What happened?”
He shook his head and stared at the grand entrance, unseeing. “Nothing. I bought tickets for us to go inside. Shall we?”
I studied him for a moment. “Let’s skip it and find a pub instead. We can come again later.”
Chance opened his mouth as if to argue but nodded. “Okay.”
We walked across the Millennium Bridge, the wind whistling around us, flapping the hems of our jackets. We dodged a posse of tourists pausing to take selfies, smiling at their gleeful shrieks when their hair and hats went flying. I did a double take, admiring his handsome profile and willowy figure against the slate-gray skyline. He seemed calmer now, but I was too nosy to let the Adam mystery go. Who was that guy, and why did I hate him?
“So…what happened?”
Chance huffed. “Honestly, it’s really nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. You were upset.”
“I was, and that pisses me off. I made a vow not to let that fuckhead dictate my moods or affect my life at all. He had one job…get his shit out of my garage. That was it. My best friend called to let me know he’d spied a few of Adam’s things strewn around my living room when he stopped by my place to feed Lord Licorice.”
“Lord Licorice?”
“My cat. I call him Lolo, but his full name is Lord Licorice, Prince of Red Vine.”
Uh…okay.
“You named your cat after licorice?” I asked incredulously.
“Mmhmm. And of course, it’s important that he knows it was all about Red Vines. Twizzlers are fucking awful,” he replied, heading down the staircase leading to the riverside. He stopped abruptly near a busker crooning on his guitar in front of Tate Gallery. “Please tell me you agree.”
I chuckled softly. “I really don’t have an opinion about licorice.”
“I’ll have to fix that.”
“And Adam?”
“He’s my ex, and he’s a royal pain in the ass.” Chance strolled toward the river wall and gazed out at the murky water. “I have a bad habit of trying to rehabilitate bad boys. Adam’s a bassist in an LA folk band. We bonded over my guitar pick and concert ticket stub collection and—”
“Wait.” I squinted. “You collect guitar picks?”
“And concert ticket stubs. My mom is a bit loony, but in a mostly fun way. She was an eighties band groupie in her pre-motherhood phase. When I was a kid, I found a box filled to the brim with stubs. She saw U2 in 1984 at the Sports Arena, The Damned, Psychedelic Furs, David Bowie. I’ve always loved live music and for some reason, I decided to continue where she left off. I added guitar picks, thinking I’d get them autographed and sell them on eBay…not realizing those fuckers are too damn small to sign.”
I snickered. “You’re an enterprising gentleman.”
Chance waggled his brows. “Or a dork. I collect them anyway. I don’t know what I’ll do with them. Just like I don’t know why I let Adam move in when I knew our relationship was going nowhere. I’m a world-class sucker.”
“You’re not a sucker.” I rubbed his nape affectionately.
He closed his eyes briefly. “Then maybe I’m a glutton for punishment. He needed a place to stay, and I liked having someone around. I didn’t like being cheated on, though. That part sucked.”
“I know the feeling.”
“I know you do.” Chance cocked his head thoughtfully, setting his hand over mine. “My situation probably doesn’t compare. I didn’t marry Adam, I didn’t love him, and I definitely didn’t think we had a future. I don’t like what that says about me, honestly. It’s like I became a human doormat, more focused on helping someone out and not cluing in that it was really bad for my self-esteem. Now I wish I’d left his shit on the sidewalk and changed the locks before I left.”