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)
“So Caroline wants me to introduce you to her cousin. Not attractive. I’m warning you now, but happy wife, happy life, and since you’re single again—”
“Fuck off, Jimmy.”
“What? You like that girl? She’s feisty. Not your type, man.”
“You’re a real asshole sometimes, you know that?”
“Yeah, but I still got your back.” He’s not wrong. I don’t have the right to shoot the messenger.
Watching Delaney push through some double doors, I pat him on the shoulder. “Congrats, man.” I start running.
“Warner? Caroline wants you to catch the garter.”
I flip him off as I rush through hordes of guests, seeing plenty of saps who would kill to help him fulfill a stupid superstition. As soon as I push through the same doors, I look both ways and then choose the staircase to the lobby. She’s in heels, so I wouldn’t think she’d get far, but fuck, the woman can run.
There’s no sign of her in the lobby or on the street out front. I look both ways, hoping to catch a glimpse of pale blue, but I’m met with every other color instead. I could run home and probably beat her back, even if she took a cab. I’m not dressed for it, but fuck it, I start running.
Three blocks down, I cross the street and turn a corner, ending up keeled over and gasping for breath. I glance up to get my bearings when I see I’m in front of my office. Water. That would be good. I push through the doors to see Jerry sitting behind the desk. “You work on weekends, too?”
“Every other Saturday. It’s good money.” He stands and looks me over. “Nice suit. Getting married?”
I chuckle, and then the thought sours in my stomach. “No. I was the best man in a friend’s wedding and had to take off.”
Shaking his head, he laughs. “Sounds like woman trouble to me. Otherwise, why would you ruin a perfectly good tuxedo like that? Hope it’s not a rental. They’ll charge you for sweat stains.”
“No worries. It’s not.”
“You always did have good style, Mr. Landers. How’s your head and arm? That was a bad accident. I recently saw the footage. You really took a hit.” His hand arches through the air. “Like a rag doll.”
“Not the image I was going for.” He laughs again. I don’t care about the mocking. I know he’s only teasing, but I do care about this footage. “You said there’s footage?”
“Yep. We have security cameras all over the building—inside and out.”
Of course, they do. I knew this and never once thought to ask if they caught the accident on video. “I’d like to see it.”
“Sure. I have it handy.” I’m not going to ask why he has it handy, but I hope he and the other guards are getting a good laugh from it. “Come around here.” Tapping a screen, he says, “Watch it here.”
It’s playing, but it takes a moment for my brain to process what I’m seeing. I lean closer. Jimmy exits and goes one way. Delaney and I exit the building and stop on the sidewalk out front. I can’t hear her, but she looks upset, points at me several times, and then balls her fists at her sides.
I’m too calm to be part of a conversation with her, so distraught. Why wouldn’t I be helping her? I leave her there and walk to the corner, but she stays. She slowly turns away but takes only a few steps before looking back.
“This is where it gets good,” Jerry says. “She says something that makes you turn around and then bam!”
“Oh shit.” My heart stops hard in my chest, the vaguest of memories of hearing my name returning. “That was bad.”
“Glad you lived.”
“Yeah.” I laugh, but I can’t say I’m at a point to be able to joke about the accident quite yet. “Me too.” As I stare at my lifeless body on the screen, I feel sick. My stomach churns as ghost aches cause pain to jump around my upper body in memory.
In my periphery, Delaney draws my full attention back to her. Her hands cover her mouth, but no step is taken. She’s in shock, surely.
“She’s cold as ice, leaving you like that.”
My eyes are fixed on her . . . silently begging her to run, to help me, to do something other than what she’s doing at that moment. When time stretches, I finally look away when anger gets the best of me. With my hands on my head, I pace from the desk just as air strikes deep in my lungs.
She left me to die.
Fuck, was she really?
No. It’s too hard to believe. I know her. She cries over fucking dead pigeons. No way would she walk away from an injured person, much less someone she’d been talking to not two minutes prior. “Hey, Jerry? Can you send a copy to my email?”