Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
By Saturday, I have four missed calls from Fitz and a string of unanswered texts.
After half a glass of wine, my hand stops shaking enough to press his name on my phone.
“What is going on?” he asks. No “hi” or “how are you?”
Living a lie is a painful existence.
So is losing the person you love most in the world. I’ve lost Fitz; I just can’t bring myself to tell him yet. Every day, I wake up hoping it is nothing more than a bad dream.
“I’ve had a cold. Sorry. I’ve been sleeping and working. How are you?”
“Good. Hope you’re feeling better.”
“Yeah. I’m getting there.”
“Are you still okay with flying with my grandma to Missoula for Thanksgiving?”
I pour a second glass of wine. Fuck, this hurts.
“She’s never been to Missoula to visit me. No pressure, but she’s really excited.”
I bat away a few tears and take an ample gulp of wine before humming, “Mm-hmm. I’ve got it.”
“You sure everything’s okay? I know I screwed up Halloween with my attitude and by dumping the entirety of my past onto you. I have no clue how to navigate this. There’s a hundred percent chance I’ll fuck this up.”
Swallowing a sob, I bite my lips together and fight for an even breath and a brave, steady voice. “You won’t. Have you”—I wipe the last few tears—“been putting out any fires?”
“I’ve only jumped once since Halloween.”
“How are Maren and Will?”
“Annoying.”
I find something to pass off as a tiny laugh. “And Evette and Gary?”
“Old and boring.”
Again, I laugh, but this time it’s real. It also pulls more tears from me. Fitz has finally decided to give us a chance. A true chance. He’s opened up to me. We’re spending a holiday together with his grandma. And all I can think about is the family I have. The ones who let me go. The ones who have died. The one who is living with demons. When I redirect my thoughts to Fitz again, I search for the words.
I contemplate the right time.
The right place.
There’s never the right place or time to destroy something beautiful. I’m sure that’s how Fitz felt when Dwight started the fire that killed his family.
“Tell Edith I’ll call her after I purchase the tickets. I need to make sure my time off is approved.”
“I’ll tell her.”
Taking one of his tissue flowers from the blue glass, I twirl it between my fingers. “I need to shower and wash a load of laundry.”
“No phone sex tonight?”
Emotion hits me again, and it takes a few seconds to regain my composure. “Do something special for Mrs. Wilke. I bet she’s felt pretty neglected.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I close my eyes. Everything hurts. I know life isn’t easy. Bad things happen to good people. Not everything has a rhyme or reason.
Still, I feel like I’m being punished. Was I an awful person in another life? Or is this a sins-of-the-father kind of fate?
“Mrs. Wilke it is.” Fitz chuckles.
This is where I say something more. A jab. A snarky comment. Something inappropriate. Yet I have nothing.
He begins to speak, but my phone cuts out for a second. I glance at the screen. “Sorry. Melissa’s calling me. Talk later?”
“Sure,” he says.
“Bye.” I switch over to Melissa. “Hey.”
“Why have you been ignoring my calls?” she asks.
“I’ve been ignoring all calls and texts.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Wrong,” I echo her, playing with that word. Is something wrong?
“Jamie, you’re acting weird. What’s wrong? You’re scaring me. Did something happen to Calvin?”
“No,” I mutter. “Well, sort of.”
“What?”
I set the tissue rose back in the blue glass. “His parents and sister died in the fire that Dwight started.”
“Oh my god,” she breathes. “Does he know Dwight’s your uncle?”
I laugh a little. A new round of tears burns my eyes, and I laugh a little more—a little maniacally. “Oh, Melissa, if only it were that. It’s not that.”
“Jaymes, what’s going on? You seem—”
“Like I should admit myself to the hospital where I work? Like I fell in love with the perfect man for me? Like I did the impossible, and I convinced him to fall in love with me? Or like the private investigator found Barbara Keane?”
“Jaymes—”
“Because he did!” I boom, stabbing my fingers through my hair while my other hand grips the phone tighter. “He found Barbara fucking Keane. But it wasn’t easy because her name was changed. Wanna know what to? Do you?” I pace my tiny apartment.
“Stop. Breathe, Jamie—” Melissa begs in a nervous tone.
“Jaymes. Lanette. Andrews. I am Barbara Keane. Dwight is my father.” My whole body shakes, hijacked with uncontrolled emotions. I pace faster, a storm of blinding, angry tears flooding my eyes. “FUCK!” I grab the blue glass of tissue flowers and hurl it across the room. It shatters against the wall. I fall to my knees, bending at the waist. “A-and . . . ,” I sob, “Fitz will never understand. And I-I d-don’t know how to t-tell him he fell in l-love with me for n-nothing.”