Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
We drift along with the current, listening to the trickling water and occasional animal sounds. I close my eyes and breathe in the fresh outdoor air. The parking lot was virtually empty. Apparently, the park gets slow during the week. We’re the only kayakers in sight.
“So what do you think?” Foxx asks, sliding his paddle into the water. “Be honest.”
“I’m always honest.”
Grasses sway lazily below us, bending gracefully to the water’s will.
“As long as I forget about modern-day dinosaurs lurking in the bushes …” I look at him over my shoulder again. “I actually really like this.” I face forward again. “I never imagined myself in a kayak floating down a river. It’s kind of funny, really.”
“Why is it funny?”
I laugh. “I don’t know. Last week, I was in a designer suit and heels, threatening to lodge them up someone’s ass if a deal didn’t come through on time. Today, I’m married, in a bikini, acting like the queen of the jungle.”
“Which do you like better?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Do you miss the designer suits and boardrooms?”
My paddle trails in the water, creating a rippling effect on the surface.
I haven’t thought about my job in two days. And as the interim president of Brewer Group, that’s not a good thing. It’s disappointing and irresponsible. This is not who I’m supposed to be, and I’m sure when my brothers told me to stay put for a while and that Gannon would take over until I returned, they didn’t expect me not to check in.
But I haven’t.
And I don’t care.
“Foxx, I think I’m a fraud.”
My words hang between us, refusing to dissipate in the thick, humid air. The feeling of them in the world, free from the cage of my mind and available for judgment, is terrifying. But also, it’s a relief.
I don’t know what I’ll say if Foxx agrees. I’m also unsure how I’ll respond if he thinks I’m being overly dramatic or blows me off. Because I’m not being dramatic. I’m serious. And the fear of being blown off and not taken seriously has stopped me from admitting this truth to myself—or anyone.
“Why do you feel that way?” he asks, bringing his paddle out of the water.
“I …” I’m unsure how to put it into words. “I haven’t felt like someone I know for a long time. I’ve made peace with it, telling myself that it’s a consequence of being a working woman. That something must give to be the person I want to be.” I take a deep breath. “But what if I don’t want to be her anymore?”
He sets the paddle across the kayak. “Then don’t be her.”
I laugh at the simplicity of his answer. “Okay. Sure. Thanks for the tip.”
“All right. Then who do you want to be? How is she different from who you are?”
“You see, that’s the thing. I think I am her already. I’m just trapped in this world I thought I wanted.”
“You’re never trapped, sweetheart.”
I smile. “What if … what if I wanted to walk away from Brewer Group? What if the thought of going back there made me ill? And how could I do that to my family—especially when they need me the most?”
“Let’s say you don’t. How do you justify sacrificing your life? If you're lucky, God gave you one life—a solid eighty, ninety years. How do you take that gift and just throw it away because you think other people expect you to?”
Oof.
“Your life isn’t less valuable than anyone else’s, Bianca.”
My chest stretches, filling with an unexpected warmth. Is it that easy? Should I just value myself and ignore the needs of others?
Should I feel guilty if I walk away from Brewer Group? Because that’s what I think I want.
That’s what I know I want.
“Look at it like this. If you’re not her, who are you?” He asks the question as if he already knows the answer. It’s curious and hesitant but also hopeful.
I drag my fingertips along the surface of the river. Who am I when I’m in Nashville? Who am I with Foxx Carmichael?
With you, I’m calm. At peace. I’m satisfied and happy.
I’m … free.
“I’m not sure who I am,” I say carefully. “But I really like the woman I’ve been the last couple of days.”
He shifts again, rocking the kayak. This time, I don’t mention it.
“I’ve laughed more in the past few days than I have in the past year,” I say softly. “I’m in a kayak. I took a spur-of-the-moment trip. I’ve gotten to know people as humans and not as a contract number or email address. I got married. It’s been wild.”
He chuckles, rubbing his thumb along the back of my neck.
“And do you know the craziest part?” I ask. “It’s that I’m here because someone was trying to hurt me. I’m arguably in the most danger than I’ve ever been throughout my life. Yet …”