Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
I see the slightest tilt of his head and the way his shoulders loosen under the question. “It was good to be back at work again. But I had some issues come up with my emails.”
My day was better with him in it. Until now, that is. I missed him. Not sure how that’s even possible to be this lovesick over someone so quickly, but it just hit hard.
“That’s good.”
“What?”
Moving my eyes to the floor in front of me, I sit on the end of the mattress. “What?”
“You said it was good I had email issues.”
“Oh, sorry you had issues. My thoughts had wandered away.” And into the ache in my heart that’s pulsing for his touch and the comfort has presence brings me.
“Delaney?”
I’m not sure if he meant my name as a question, but it sure sounded like one. I stare at him, feeling confident he’ll finish it. Seconds pass, trapping us in an uncomfortable silence. I can’t stand it. I’m used to noise, my rowdy brothers, and my parents joining in on the laughter. Even when Joe moved out, he’s still there all the time. Silence doesn’t sit well with me. It’s unsettling like I’m in trouble. “Am I in trouble?”
“Why would you be in trouble, Delaney?”
“Why do you keep saying my name like there’s more to what’s being said?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, rolling his head over his shoulders as he comes into the room. “Maybe because I expect you to break my legs when I’m sleeping with all the shit you’ve been pulling.”
The insult sends me to my feet, ready to defend myself. “Are you comparing this past weekend to the plot of Misery?”
“If the shoe fits, sweetheart. Didn’t you once say that to me?”
Throwing my arms out wide, ready for this fight, I yell, “Everybody freaking says that, Warner.” Still staring at him, I add, “You’ve even said it to me.”
“This is what you do, Delaney. You twist the narrative to fit a story that’s in your head. You argue with no other goal in mind than to wear me down. It works most times because the hurricane that is you sucks so much energy from the room that it’s left devastated after you’ve gone.”
“You missing me when I leave doesn’t sound so awful.”
He laughs, but there’s an edge of frustration to it. “There’s a prime example.” Taking a deep breath, I can see the change in his body, the ease he’s forcing into his posture, and the anger morphing into something else. Disappointment? He comes to me, takes my hand, and then leans down eye level with me. “Don’t ever mess with my business again.”
Jocelyn . . . She snitched on me the first chance she got, bright and early on Monday morning. I can’t blame her, though I need to blame someone right now, and she’s the lucky candidate. Looking him square in the eyes, which seems to be important to him, I reply, “Understood.”
“Good.” He leaves the room, and says, “I’m ordering pizza. What toppings do you want?”
I’m still a bit stunned to the spot but manage to reply. “Pepperoni.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.” Pepperoni pizza beats the cup o’ramen I bought for us. I sit back on the bed again, thinking about what he said. Who have I become? I crossed a line when I emailed pretending to be him. But that’s just one of so many more that I’ve erased completely. I don’t recognize myself or the life I’m living anymore. Good or bad, it’s of my own doing.
He has every right to be upset. And I need to sit in this reality check for behaving so horribly. Warner is a good man. He stands his ground and protects what’s his. He’s more than made it clear that I fall into that category. I never intended to hurt him, but I have.
Returning to the living room, I sit next to him on the couch and take his hand between both of mine. When he looks at me, I say, “I’m really sorry. I’m so ashamed of what I’ve done. I don’t expect your forgiveness. I crossed lines that . . .” I drop my head forward, staring at the connection of our hands, the size difference, and how his fingers wrap around mine as soon as we touch. “I have so many excuses, but none will justify what I’ve done. All I can tell you is that I’m genuinely sorry for hurting and upsetting you.”
The moment he pulls his hand from mine, the water pooling in the corners of my eyes falls over the dams of my lower lids. His arm comes around my shoulders, and he pulls me in to cuddle against him.
He doesn’t say anything else about it, but we both know that there was more to it than just the emails. The truth always comes out, and the floodgates have been opened.