Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
If there wasn’t a world of heaviness on my chest, I’d find joy in the moment. I lifted my eyes to stare across the street at the tree lights in the apartment windows. They ranged from colorful lights to white ones, all beautiful in their own way. If I’d known I would be staying here for Christmas, I’d have gotten a tree … no, I probably wouldn’t have.
Faking that much merriness was too exhausting. I was done acting as if I was okay. Which was the main reason I’d lied to Jellie and her mother about having COVID. No other explanation would have been enough for them to accept my not being there. This was going to be Zeke’s first year to do Christmas with the Watts, and that was enough of a distraction for Jellie not to be too upset about my missing it.
I’d almost packed a bag more than once today and left for Portsmouth. But before I could even make it to the bedroom to do so I stopped. I wasn’t feeling any holiday spirit this year and going there like this, making Melinda and Jellie worry about me, wasn’t fair. Staying in my apartment alone was best. Even if it only added to my sadness.
The meal that Melinda had sent via a courier service was tucked away in the refrigerator.
It wasn’t the meal she’d be preparing, but it had come from a catering service in Manhattan that offered a menu full of holiday trimmings. The four large boxes that had arrived seemed as if Melinda had bought me everything they had on that list. It was sweet of her, although I’d never eat all of that. I’d do good to taste each dish. And it had only made me feel even guiltier about my lie. I wasn’t sure what was worse—my lying about being ill, or my being there, ten pounds lighter than I had been at Thanksgiving, and unable to even pretend I wasn’t broken inside, causing them to worry.
I had to believe this was best. My sad presence wouldn’t dull their holiday festivities. I’d thought I was in a dark place before, but nothing compared to where I was now.
For thirty-six hours after I’d walked away and left him on that street, I’d worried about Ransom, if he’d gotten caught or arrested. I waited for him to show up here. Explain things. Make me understand why he’d shut me out. Heck, reassure me that he was okay.
Growing desperate, I’d checked the only other access I had to him—the distillery’s Instagram.
There he was, with his brother and father, along with their employees, raising a glass of whiskey in front of oak barrels. He wasn’t looking at the camera, but at his brother, smiling. His cowboy hat tipped back and his arm around a woman. A stunning brunette, wearing a pair of Daisy Dukes, cowboy boots, and a Carver’s Bootleg Whiskey T-shirt that was tight and cropped. She appeared to be laughing, with her eyes also on Than. As if they were sharing some inside joke.
The caption read: Happy holidays from our family to yours. May your days be merry and your whiskey be smooth.
It had been posted two hours before I checked it.
Ransom was, in fact, okay. He was more than okay. He was happy. Smiling. Enjoying himself. With another woman. Already. That was a blow that I hadn’t been ready for, and I wasn’t going to recover from it anytime soon. If I’d had a shred of hope left that what we had wasn’t over, it was taken with that one photo taunting me.
I unfollowed the distillery before turning off my screen, then throwing my phone across the room. Then I’d let out a wail and crumpled to the floor to weep. I normally wasn’t so dramatic, but then I’d never had my heart ripped apart like that either.
Turning away from the view, I looked over at the bookshelf that displayed my three-volume first-edition set of Pride and Prejudice. I’d come to accept that it was Arden who had sent them. Somewhere in his travels, he must have found them for a good price and wanted me to have them. Maybe they were an apology of sorts. If so, I wished he’d send his mother an apology. Something to ease her mind.
This Christmas wouldn’t be a happy one for her either. Although his not being there wouldn’t be abnormal. He never went back home for the holidays. Most of the time, he’d have his intern send wine-and-cheese baskets to his family members. I’d never questioned it because I hadn’t had a relationship with my mother either.
Sinking down onto the sofa, I reached for the red cashmere throw that had been a gift from Melinda and was the only pop of festive color in my apartment this year. I had debated watching a Christmas movie, but decided against it and chose to play holiday music instead. The familiar twang of Dolly came over the sound system that was built into every room as she sang about hard candy. Seemed a good anthem for me this year.