Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 838(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 838(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
I walked back downstairs and poured myself some whiskey. After I had swallowed down my third glass, I traced my steps back to her room and stepped out onto the terrace. The snow had started to come down harder. I didn’t notice it much, not with the way I was feeling. I leaned my arms on the railing and looked over Central Park. I wasn’t sure how long I stood there like an idiot, but the next thing I knew I was walking out of our apartment and catching a cab.
If Raymond had felt it necessary to mention her coffee shop, there was a good chance he had already checked and knew she was still there. The cabbie dropped me off a few stores down from her place and I walked till I was standing right in front of the big window next to the front door, right under the wreath I had put up as she smiled at me with happy eyes. I stood there on the empty, cold, wet sidewalk, on my own save for a few loud people walking by every now and then, and I could see a hint of light coming from the kitchen.
It ripped my black heart into pieces to know she was going to spend the night alone and far away from me, and in her coffee shop of all places, but I’d known from the moment I stepped out of the apartment that I was going to stand there until Owen showed up early in the morning and she wasn’t alone anymore. Leaning my back against the side of the building, I tipped my head back and welcomed the soft bite of cold the snow left on my face.
I deserved far worse, and she deserved far better.
But…I was head over heels in love with this woman, more than I could’ve ever thought possible when I’d first come up with the most ridiculous ‘business deal’ I could ever conceive of. She had my heart in her hands. She was the only one for me; it was as simple as that. I could be without Rose. I could spend a lifetime without ever talking to her again and I would live—miserably, but I would live, as long as I knew she was happier. Life always moved on whether you chose to move along with it or stay put and let it happen all around you, but I didn’t want to do it without her.
That was my choice. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life without her, just looking at her from a distance. I needed and wanted to be right next to her, holding her hand, whispering how much I loved her into her skin until my love became a part of her, a necessity she couldn’t do without.
I wanted to be her air, her heart. I wanted everything I didn’t deserve to have.
But was that the best thing for her?
Was I the best thing?
Unfortunately, I knew I wasn’t, but that didn’t change the fact that I would try to be.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rose
It was around two AM when I carefully ventured out of the kitchen so I could get a book from the library. I was still thinking if I could just stop my mind for a minute, maybe I could fall asleep and forget about everything that had happened in the last fifteen or so hours. At first, I was just peeking out from the doorway to the kitchen to make sure there was no one outside on the streets that would notice me. It only took me a few seconds to notice him.
Jack Hawthorne.
He was leaning against the lamp pole that was right on the corner, arms crossed against his chest. I glanced around to see if Raymond was waiting for him nearby, but I didn’t see any familiar faces or cars; he appeared to be alone. Confused, angry, excited, and a little surprised, my heart leaping out of my chest in no time, I didn’t know what to do for a second as my emotions waged a war in my heart. I kept looking at him, not sure what I should do.
Acknowledge his presence?
Go out there and demand to know what he was doing there?
No answer he could give me would change anything, though.
He was staring down at his shoes, and even though I was mad at him like nothing else, I still thought he looked just perfect in the moonlight. When he moved his head and noticed me standing in the doorway, my breath froze in my chest. We stared at each other, neither one of us taking a step forward. It was then I realized he wouldn’t come. He wouldn’t press and try to explain or apologize. No, Jack Hawthorne would do none of those things. He had been telling the absolute truth when he’d said he wasn’t sorry for what he’d done.