Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Hugh? What’s going on?”
The slurring voice on the other end was unexpected. “Am I just unlovable? You’ll tell it to me straight. I know you will. Am I? Because…” A deep, shaky sigh came through the phone and curled around my heart. “Maybe I need to accept that this just isn’t going to happen for me.”
“What happened with Louis?” I demanded, imagining what it would feel like to wrap my hands around that pissant’s ungrateful throat.
“S’just that he… he tried to tell some of my Real Life HEAs people to get divorced. On the sly. Which was really, really mean.” I could tell now that he was drunk. I wished like hell I wasn’t half a world away so I could turn up at his apartment and comfort him.
“Where’s Rafa?” I knew Rafa was a good guy who cared about Hugh. He could be trusted to give Hugh the support he clearly needed.
“Puking probs. We had some drinks. You probably can’t tell, but I’m a little…” His voice drifted off.
I couldn’t stop my grin or the way my voice lowered. “Drunk. Yeah, baby. I can tell. Did you take some Advil and drink some water?”
“No.”
I settled in the hallway with my back against the wall, the beige plaster cool against my shoulder blades. “Go do that now. I’ll wait.”
“Okay.” Sounds of fumbling and muffled footsteps came through the phone, followed by the tap running and turning off. After a few minutes, he came back on. “I did it.”
“Good. Now, go lie in bed and tell me what exactly happened with Louis.”
“You can’t kill him. It’s against the law.” Instead of a smile in his voice, I heard a thread of unease. “Promise me, Oscar.”
“Not going to kill him.” Only because I wasn’t on the same continent as the prick. “Just fantasize about it a little.”
Now the smile came into his voice. “Fantasizing is okay. I do it a lot. Mostly not about killing though. Mostly about being with you… er, not you. Hugh. Um… Mostly about being with myself… in various places. Like…” He blew out a defeated breath. “How are things in Macaw?”
“Macau,” I corrected, biting back a grin at how fucking adorable he was drunk. “And they’re fine. Stop changing the subject.”
He proceeded to tell me about the weaselly divorce attorney trolling Hugh’s HEA couples for business. It was disgusting and despicable, not to mention completely sleazy.
“Well, I think that’s fantastic, actually,” I said, trying to sound upbeat.
Hugh was beginning to sound a little less drunk and a little more adorably tipsy. “Fantastic? That he messed with my professional reputation?”
“No, that he made it easy to see who he really is before things got too serious. This way, you don’t have to spend two years living with the guy before realizing he’s a douche.”
Hugh let out a mournful sound. “He was good in bed.”
I gritted my teeth until they felt like they might crack. “Plenty of other men in New York who are good in bed.”
The sound became a whiny wail. “I feel like I’ve already tried them all! And… and…” He exhaled. “I forgot what I was going to say. And anyway… I should probably hang up now. I know we’re not supposed to call. I didn’t… didn’t mean to hit the Call button. I pulled out my phone to text and accidentally hit the Call button… which is really a lie. Because I meant to hit the Call button. I really hope you don’t remember that when you sober up.”
I slid down to sit on the floor, grinning stupidly. “I won’t, I promise.”
“Can we change the subject? How’s your business whatever?”
“Strategy sessions are productive. So far, so good.”
“Are you supposed to be meeting now? It’s daytime there, right? I should probably let you go.”
I glanced over my shoulder and saw through the glass conference room door to the table full of executives. One of my VPs shot me a concerned look. I gave him a thumbs-up and gestured for them to continue without me.
“It’s daytime, but there’s no rush. Did you get your edits done on the Patrick wedding?”
“Yeah.” Hugh’s defeated tone disappeared as he began to tell me about the pictures he’d captured at last weekend’s wedding job. “There’s a shot of the bride with her family that came out perfect,” he added.
“Such a perfectionist,” I said fondly.
“Sometimes, yeah. But I’m particularly proud of myself for that one because one of the adult sons was a total pain in the ass. Didn’t want to be in the pictures.”
“Mm. Maybe he didn’t want to be at the wedding at all.”
Hugh hesitated, as if the thought had never occurred to him. “Don’t be ridiculous. Who wouldn’t want to be at their sister’s wedding?”
I made a low dismissive noise, but Hugh must have sobered up enough to catch it. “Oscar? What was that for?”