Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
This is the last night I will spend without Ava.
End of.
16
Her head is buried in my naked chest. Her palms are resting on my shoulders. My arms are wrapped around her waist. She’s nervous, and I don’t know why. But I do know it’s making me edgy. “What’s wrong?” I ask into her hair, brushing my nose through the strands, taking comfort from her natural scent. She clings to me tighter, as if she can’t bear to let me go. “Ava, baby, tell me.” I gently push her away and find her eyes. They’re overflowing with tears. Tears of despair? Of joy?
What?
My heartbeat slows. I can’t quite catch my breath.
“I can’t be with you,” she murmurs, her voice cracked and rough. She looks away, and my heart feels like it stops beating completely.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, taking her chin and forcing her to face me. I hate the desperation I see in her beautiful eyes. “We’re perfect together, Ava. Me and you. We’re perfect.”
“I can’t love you.” She breaks away from me, getting up off the bed, leaving me a useless, stunned mess of a man. We just made love. It was beautiful, full of sentiment and tenderness. “I can’t save you,” she whispers, and I reach out for her, desperate to pull her back, desperate to get her in my arms again. But I’m grabbing at thin air. She’s fading.
Fading.
Fading.
Gone.
* * *
My eyes snap open.
My chest constricts.
My body feels heavy, like something unshakeable is holding me down. I can’t breathe. Fuck, I can’t breathe.
Air.
I need air.
I try to sit up, grappling at the back of the couch for something to hold on to. I can’t move. “Fuck.” My forehead’s damp, my whole body is clammy. Why the fuck can’t I move?
“Morning,” a groggy voice says, a face appearing above me, hovering. Smiling. I blink away the fog and Coral’s face comes into view. I look down my front. She’s straddling my waist, her body naked, her hands working the belt of my trousers.
“What the fuck, Coral?” I croak, the feeling of suffocating worsening. “Get the fuck off me.” I push her away, firmly but gently, scrambling to my feet. “What the hell are you playing at?”
She slumps back on the couch, half smirking, half indignant. “You were dreaming.”
I rake a hand through my hair, my body now drenched under my shirt and trousers. I wasn’t dreaming. It was a fucking nightmare, and reality is no better in this moment. “Get out,” I seethe, throwing my arm toward the door. “Now.”
She shrinks back, shocked, but slowly stands, grabbing her dress and holding it against her front. I turn away, my eyes bleeding, my hands ready to rip all the hair from my head. I feel dirty. Tarnished. I hear the door to my office open. “No, wait,” I shout, facing her. She’s halfway out the door, still naked, thoroughly wounded. I drop my eyes to the floor. “Get dressed,” I say more softly, my palm sliding onto my nape and massaging away some of the tension as I turn away from her. “We need to talk.”
The door closes, and I hear the sounds of her shuffling into her dress. I look to the ceiling, exhaling. This is not how I planned on spending my morning. “Coral, this needs to st—”
“I’ve told Mike I want a divorce.”
I swing around, stunned. “Not on my account, I hope.”
Her head cocks, her jaw tight. I can’t believe she has the nerve to look indignant. After everything she’s thrown at me? “You don’t realize yet, Jesse, but you will. You and I are meant to be together.”
“Oh, for the love of fucking God.” I laugh, my head falling back. “Coral, how many times have I got to go over this with you?” I drop my serious eyes to hers. “I fucked you. In case you didn’t notice, that happens a lot around here.” I wave a hand in the air, deranged. “People fuck.” I take a step forward, my jaw ready to snap. “And if you’ve read too much into it, that’s your problem, not mine.” I’m done with this fucking circus. I shouldn’t even be here, and just the fact I am, dealing with her bullshit fantasy world, is only escalating my bad mood. I’ve tried. I’ve tried so fucking hard to be reasonable and compassionate. No more. “I’m not interested in you.” It’s not a slap in the face, but it’s close. “Now get the fuck out of my Manor and do not come back. Understand?”
“Understand,” she says through gritted teeth, dipping to slip her shoes on. Then she exits without another word, leaving me heaving in the middle of my office, feeling no less harassed now she’s gone. “Fuck!” I yell, bracing my hands on the edge of the drinks cabinet and working hard to cool myself down. Obstacles. At every fucking turn, there’s an obstacle waiting for me to fail. And why the fuck is the drinks cabinet still here? Stocked? My gaze lifts to a bottle of vodka. “Fuck you,” I spit, pushing myself off the wood and stalking to the door. I need a shower. A fresh suit.