Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
That shocks him into silence. “Graham, I—”
“Tomorrow at five,” I repeat, and hang up the call.
My entire body trembles as I sit back down and stare at the security cameras. I text Brian to ask how bad it may get if I were to go back down there. And foolishly I text Maddie again and she texts back that she needs to sleep.
Graham: what happened?
Maddie: I need to get back to sleep.
Graham: you told me that but I need to know what happened.
Maddie: I can’t right now. I just…I’m sorry.
It’s then that Brian texts me as well.
Brian: Seriously. Just give her some time.
I drop my phone, hating every fucking minute of this. Sometime after dawn I doze off on the couch in my living room and wake up again with a jolt at ten to nine.
Fuck me.
I’m usually in the office by now, but I feel wrecked from the night awake. Every single one of my muscles hurts like I’ve run a marathon. I stomp into my shower and let the hot water do its work. The steam surrounds me and my head races with every thought imaginable. The only conclusion I come to is that she’s leaving. Something happened to pull her away. Was it her fucking ex? I don’t know what I’ll do if she’s actually leaving me.
There are no messages from Harland Porter on my phone when I get out, but I don’t care.
I don’t care. What the hell was so important about this property? What was I trying to prove by sticking things out with a man who doesn’t know what he wants? The only things that matter are Maddie and the fact that she didn’t message me.
I shave at the sink, barely looking at myself. This is a horrible feeling. It’s the feeling I’ve been resisting for years. I didn’t want anything to be more important than making sure I had the right life, and I was wrong.
I was just wrong.
I tap the razor too hard on the edge of the sink and get a grip on myself.
I didn’t know what to do for her because I’ve spent all this time worrying about buildings instead of people. I lost my parents, so I thought that was it. There was nothing else for me to concern myself with but building a legacy that surpassed them.
I’m the one who did this to myself, and now to Maddie.
Getting dressed feels worthless. None of this shit matters, either. None of the custom suits or tailored shirts or expensive watches. What the fuck are they worth? When it comes down to it, I’ll be alone because I don’t know how to love anyone anymore. I don’t let them close so they don’t let me close.
And I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than to wipe her tears away and to make whatever it was that hurt Maddie vanish.
I was focused on the wrong damn things in the first place.
Once I’ve got my shirt buttoned up, I put my head in my hands and force myself to breathe.
No. This is not how I wanted things to go. If she’s going to push me away, I need her to know that I don’t want her to. I need her to know that I…that I… fuck!
I don’t know what to do for the rest of the day. I pace around my apartment, waiting to see if she’ll call.
Eventually, I’m ready to admit that I’m the one who has to choose what I’m going to do. I can’t keep waiting. So I make the decision to go down to the lobby and check in with the doormen.
I need to reset my view of the property, of Maddie, and of my entire life.
The ground floor is the best place to start.
I dress, double check to make sure I have my phone and wallet, and head for the door. My penthouse feels empty without Maddie. It’s always been too much space for one person, but I ignored that feeling because it was a status symbol. A man like me is supposed to have a penthouse. It’s what’s best. It’s the crowning jewel. But what the fuck good is a king without his queen?
In reality, a man like me is supposed to know better. He should understand that he can’t just waste away by himself, alone in his penthouse, counting piles of money that do fuck all to fill the gaping hole in his chest.
He should’ve known from the beginning that all the money would never be enough.
In the elevator, I lean against the wall and tell myself over and over again that it’s not too late.
I don’t even know what it’s not too late for.
My phone rings as I’m stepping out of the elevator, and my heart pounds thinking it’s her.
It isn’t.
“Hey, Scott,” I say into the phone, trying to hide my disappointment. “I’m on my way to the office.”