Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Look at me.” There is no confusing the frustration in his tone, and I stop and slowly turn to face him. “I need to run to the hotel to get my suitcase. I’m coming right back.”
“Oh.” My heart feels funny inside my chest as he walks toward me.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
I start to lie and tell him that I wasn’t trying to get rid of him, but he captures my chin and rests his thumb against my lips while his other hand wraps around my hip.
“I shouldn’t be gone more than forty minutes.”
“Okay.” I relax into his touch.
“You gonna be all right while I’m gone?”
“Yeah.” I nod, and he touches his lips to mine in a sweet, soft kiss that makes my nose tingle.
“Be back, and I have my cell on if you need me.” He lets me go, then heads for the stairs.
I watch him until he’s out of sight, and hear the front door open and shut. I take a seat on the couch with my phone and call my mom, who happens to be with my dad. I explain everything to the two of them, and they immediately say they are going to come over, so it takes some time to convince them it’s not necessary and reassure them that I’m okay, just shook up.
When I get off the phone with them, I make a couple of very uncomfortable phone calls to people who I know worked with Meghan, and they are just as stunned by what happened as I am. By the time I hang up with my last call, I notice a multitude of social media messages popping up on my phone along with text messages.
“What the…?” My phone starts to ring in my hand with an unknown number, and I put it to my ear. “Hello.”
“Is this April Mayson?” a woman asks.
“It is.”
“You know it’s like totally bitchy of you to not talk to Cohen, right?” she sasses, and I sit up straight.
“Excuse me?”
“All he wants to do is talk to you. You should at least hear him out.”
“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” I snap.
“No.”
“Right.” I hang up and ignore my phone when it starts ringing once more, then go to my social media and read through some of the messages. Most of them are from women, and a few men, who are pissed at me for not talking to Cohen. Feeling anger curl up in the pit of my stomach, I jump off the couch, grab my car keys from my bag, and storm downstairs to the front door. When I get out to my car, I fling the door open, lean inside to grab the crumpled piece of paper that’s still in my cup holder, and smooth it out on the hood of my car.
“What are you doing?” Maxim asks, making me jump as I start to dial the number, and I glare at him.
“Stop scaring me.” I look from him to his car, wondering how it’s possible that I didn’t hear him pull up.
“Sure. Now, who are you calling?”
“My ex,” I tell him as my phone rings with a number that I don’t recognize, and I press Ignore on the call.
“Why?” He gets close, his brows drawn together tightly, making him look menacing.
“Because he went on the radio this morning, and now I have random people—mostly women—messaging and calling my phone. And some of them threatened to do some not-so-nice things if they see me out,” I say, going back to plugging in the cell number, which is taking forever, because messages and calls keep popping up on my screen. Getting frustrated, I turn my phone on silent, then glare at Maxim when he takes my cell from me. “I need that!”
“You’re not calling him.”
“Oh, yes, I am,” I assure him, and he shakes his head, taking the paper from me.
“Calling him is not going to solve this issue, babe.”
“You’re right.” I snatch the paper out of his hand—or most of it, anyway. “It won’t solve anything, but I’m pretty sure I will feel better after telling him what a dick he is,” I rant, then look past him when I catch a familiar-looking Jeep pull into a parking space a little ways down from my house. “Oh my God.”
“What?” He turns to look, but I grab his arm.
“I need you to hide.”
“What?”
“I need you to hide,” I repeat, looking around for somewhere to put him and notice the garbage can next to my garage door.
“Not happening,” he growls, and my stomach sinks.
“Honey,” Mom calls out, with my dad following behind her, carrying a large brown bag.
“Thank you for coming over to check the security system. I really appreciate that,” I say loud enough for my parents to hear as I look up at Maxim and hold out my hand.