Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
“Well, you need to give him a chance,” he states casually. Like it is the most natural thing in the world for me to simply gloss about last night’s fiasco and forget about the hooker.
I stare at him in shock. “You do realize I said he just fucked a whore, right?”
He laughs again.
“I’m glad you find it hilarious, because my heart feels like it’s been shredded to ribbons,” I snap.
“You need to let that go,” Carl says with a shrug of his massive shoulders. “You said you weren’t together. So technically he didn’t cheat on you. Sometimes when a man is scared of something that he knows is good for him he turns to what’s familiar instead.”
I shake my head with disgust. “Just trust a man to stick up for another.”
“Come on. I’m on your side. The thing about turning to what is familiar is that it never works. What have you got to lose? You love the guy. Give him a real chance and let him prove his love for you. If he fails, you can be miserable then.”
“Love for me? Have you heard a word I’ve said? He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t even want to be with me. He won’t tell me anything. To get the story about his dad was like squeezing blood out of stone.” I wave my hand around my face. “He’s put this wall up between us. I can’t get through, no matter what.”
“Trust me, that man loves you,” Carl says stubbornly. “I could tell when he called me out when he thought I was hitting on you. I saw it in his eyes.”
I think about how Luke acted when Carl hit on me. Carl could be right. Luke’s reaction that day was more than just jealousy. It could have been love, too. It makes me smile, and I’m starting to feel a little better about everything. Also, the alcohol is making my head buzz. “I don’t know how to get him to open up to me. I know you say that he loves me because of how he acted. But maybe that’s not love. Maybe that’s just lust and possession. A kind of crazy.”
“Isn’t love just a happier version of insanity?” he asks and takes a drink. The ice cubes in his drink clink together as he tips his glass back. He sets it on the counter and looks at me. “If you want to know the truth, you have to confront him. You owe it to yourself to be brave.”
“I wish it was that easy,”
“Best form of defense is attack. So go in, all guns blazing.”
“You know, you’re kind of easy to talk to. Like one of my girlfriends.”
He laughs. “It’s the long hair, isn’t it?”
I smile. I really like him. “Maybe. But there’s not one single feminine cell in you. No one would mistake you for a woman. You’re all man.”
He grins. “Well, there goes my dream of being a drag queen.”
We both laugh at that.
Carl motions to the bartender. “Another round for the lovely lady and me, please.”
The bartender mixes us up some more drinks. I know I shouldn’t drink anymore. The first ones are starting to hit me hard. That last sentence came out all slurred, but I figure I’ll stop after this one. I’m sure I can handle one more without anything bad happening. I’ve finished all my work, all I have to do is crawl upstairs, and go to bed. Alone.
As I sit there morosely sipping my drink, Carl regales me about his life. How he climbed Mount Everest. His story is fascinating, and he’s a good storyteller, but I can’t stop thinking about Luke. I’m disappointed that he never even tried to call me. When I look at my phone I see that it is turned off. I turn it back on, but there are no texts or voice messages.
Suddenly, the alcohol hits me hard, and it’s all too much.
“Are you okay?” Carl asks me.
I shake my head. I’m trying hard not to cry. That’s the last thing I want to do in front of him. In front of anyone, really.
Carl offers me a gentle look, at odds with his hulking stature. “What you need to do is finish your drink, go upstairs, and knock on his door. Tell him you want to talk to him, and that you aren’t going to leave until he, as you Americans would say, damn well talks to you.” He pauses and raises his eyebrows. “But he has to really talk. It can’t just be him mumbling that he doesn’t know how he feels. It’s time for him to man up. Don’t let him get away with that bullshit again.”
It’s good advice. And he’s being friendly. Like legitimately friendly. Not how guys are when they want to get in your pants, or because they think you have great tits. He’s being a good human being, and I love that.