Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Stepping into the small, private room, I exhaled and stared at myself in the mirror.
How much had I changed?
Why did I care?
I reached up and touched the smile lines trying to form. Maybe it was time to try Botox. I’d mentioned it once to Eamon, and he’d kissed each side of my mouth, telling me that I wasn’t injecting my beautiful face with poison. He’d loved me unconditionally, and not one day had I deserved him.
I took a lock of my coal-black hair and let it slide over my fingers. It hadn’t changed much. Only shorter and hitting just a few inches below my shoulders. I’d had hair to my waist back then. It wasn’t rolled or styled in any way. Just straight. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken time to do more than brush it.
I still didn’t wear much makeup. With my pale complexion, I’d always felt like I resembled a clown when I tried the new trends. Moisturizer, some powder, a little dusting of bronzer, lip gloss, and if I was trying to really dress up, I might add some eyeshadow.
Why was I doing this? It wasn’t as if I could come in here and talk myself into not feeling intimidated by the woman on Rome’s lap. I didn’t want to be. I didn’t want to care. But…I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t imagined seeing him again a million different times in the past eighteen years. This was not the scenario I’d thought up though. Not even in the same ballpark.
For starters, I’d been all fixed up and dressed in something much…well, sexier than this. I glanced down at the Burberry skirt, knee-high black boots, and black turtleneck I was wearing. I looked like the boring thirty-seven-year-old woman I had become. Not some sex goddess who would make Rome regret losing me.
Groaning, I shook my head and turned from the mirror to use the restroom, wash my hands, and leave.
It seemed his taste in women hadn’t changed. Just like the day he’d caused me the most excruciating pain my heart had ever experienced, she’d been my exact opposite. Blonde, massive boobs, fake lashes, lots of makeup, and clothing that barely covered anything. Except that girl had been on her knees with his cock in her mouth.
Finishing up, I tried not to look in the mirror while I washed my hands just so I wouldn’t find any more faults. Eamon had hated it whenever I would point out a flaw about myself. He’d been good for my self-esteem.
We had walked into an event only a year and a half ago that his father’s finance firm was hosting, and he’d leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Do you have any idea what it feels like for me when I enter a room, knowing the woman on my arm is the most ravishing female there?”
I’d blushed. I didn’t agree with him. There were stunning women everywhere. But he’d only ever seemed to see me.
My throat thickened, and tears prickled my eyes. I had to stop thinking about all that. It would only make this day more difficult than it already was.
“It has been eighteen years. You were both still kids. Nothing alike. You have lived other lives, become different people,” I whispered while giving my reflection a scolding frown.
Was it fair that he was still as sexy and rugged as he had been back then? No. But whatever.
I’d found that the bad boys with the charming smiles, dirty mouths, and tattoos weren’t my type after all. He was just the grown version of what he’d started becoming back then.
Turning, I took one more deep breath before leaving the restroom. With my head down to make sure I didn’t miss the small step up in the doorway, I didn’t see if anyone was waiting in line. However, it just so happened that I didn’t need to see. The scent—a combination of tobacco, mint, and the outdoors—assailed me. I knew that your sense of smell had a memory, but in eighteen years, I hadn’t been met with this one.
Until now.
As if he’d commanded it, my head snapped up, and I almost stumbled over the raised flooring as my eyes collided with a set of pale green pools that often still starred in my dreams at night. The instant adrenaline shot at being this close to him sent my heart rate up. I wondered what my Apple watch said it was right now. Ninety beats a minute. Maybe more. Was that dangerous?
His dark brown hair was still long, but now in dreadlocks that he kept tied in a messy almost bun at the nape of his neck. The stubble on his chin looked as if he hadn’t shaved in a week or so, but it wasn’t a full beard. The lips that had once mesmerized me quirked at the corner, as if he were amused. I realized I was studying his face as if he were a piece of art in a museum. I started to raise my eyes back to his when his tongue swiped his bottom lip, and I saw a flash of metal.