Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 125135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“You want to know the truth?”
“Yeah.”
“It was a little weird. Not only did I find out that my mother sometimes day drinks, which is kind of cool, but she was definitely on to the vibe between you and me. That was unsettling.”
“Shit,” he muttered and looked away. “That whole wedding-dress thing. It made you getting married feel very real.”
“Yeah, you’re telling me.”
“I know it may not always seem like it, but I want the best for you, Lala. I swear, I’m not trying to mess up your life.” His eyes were sincere.
“I feel like you have just as much control as I do lately, Holden. And that’s really not that much.”
“You’d be surprised how much control I have, sweetheart. It’s hanging on by a thread sometimes, but I have control. There’s a lot I’ve wanted to say and do that I haven’t.” He shook his head. “Look, I’m going to back off, okay? This is your life. It’s not a game. And I’m not gonna make it complicated for you anymore.” We stood in silence again before he simply said, “I’d better go.”
Then Holden stormed off.
I lay in bed that night feeling empty, like I was at a crossroads. I could take the safe direction with Warren. In my head, the Warren road was perfectly paved and tree-lined, with classical music playing and the sound of children’s laughter in the distance. It was peaceful and safe. Then there was the Holden road: bumpy with cobblestones and flashy lights, rock music—plus lots of sex. That road made my heart race. And there was a big sign at the entrance that read: Enter at your own risk.
CHAPTER 13
Lala
Twenty-four long hours passed, and I hadn’t seen or heard from Holden. Even though I couldn’t seem to stop my mind from visiting him, I’d managed to keep a physical distance. Since my well-behaved streak needed all the help it could get as of late, I decided to stop downstairs and ask Owen for the ride I was going to need later, rather than knocking next door.
He opened with his toothbrush in his mouth. “What’s up, Lala? Come on in,” he mumbled through foam and stepped aside for me to enter, holding up one finger. “Just give me a second to rinse.”
“Sure. Take your time.” I walked a few steps into the apartment and froze, finding that Owen wasn’t alone. None other than Holden leaned against the kitchen counter. “Uh…what are you doing here?” I asked.
He lifted a coffee mug to his mouth. “Owen has a fancy new cappuccino maker. He needed a ride this morning, so I traded him the ride for being my bitch, which included making me this deliciousness and avocado toast.”
Owen walked back in the room. “Sorry about that. What’s going on, Lala?”
Ugh. This sucked. I knew Holden wasn’t going to be happy that I’d come to ask Owen for a ride instead of him. And it also seemed Owen wasn’t going to be able to help. “Uh, I was hoping maybe you could pick me up from the PATH train later?”
Through my peripheral vision, I saw Holden frown. “The PATH? You going to Jersey?”
I nodded. “Today is the first day of interviews at one of the nursing homes where the participants in my research study live. The oil light in my car is on, so I don’t want to drive that far without getting it checked. I’m also overdue for an oil change. Tia is picking me up so we can drive together, but she’s visiting her mom who lives in Jersey after. So I’m going to take the PATH home. But I’ll have a bunch of boxes on the way back, so the subway will be kind of difficult to navigate.”
“Makes sense you’d ask Owen to pick you up,” Holden said evenly. “You know, with your arms full of boxes and all.”
“Right. Well, I figured the PATH isn’t too far from his office…”
“Sorry, Lala,” Owen said. “Holden’s actually dropping me off at the airport in a little while. I have to go up to Boston on business for the night.”
“Oh.” I forced a smile. “No biggie. I’m sure I can just grab an Uber or something.”
Holden lifted his mug to his mouth. “Or I can pick you up.”
“No, it’s fine.” I waved him off. “I don’t want to impose any more than I already have. I was only asking Owen since it was near his office, and I know sometimes he drives because he picks up clients.”
“Where in Jersey is the nursing home?”
“Hoboken.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I’ve been putting off going to The Heights, which is right next to Hoboken. I have some equipment the band borrowed from a friend that I need to return. I can do that this afternoon and then swing by and pick you up right from the nursing home. That way you don’t have to take the PATH or the subway.”