Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“It’s fine. Really,” I say past the lump in my throat that proves it’s not fine at all.
Who was that beautiful woman talking so intimately with Gannon? She was in his personal space, something he ardently avoids. Their conversation wasn’t full of laughter like old friends, or even natural like they were discussing the weather. Whatever they were discussing was serious. Personal. Private.
And that’s what he’s been worried about. She’s been preoccupying his thoughts. She, the beautiful, elegant woman—the embodiment of who I’ve imagined at Gannon’s side—knows him well. He was okay with her touch. Her presence. Her affection.
While I was on my knees, believing that pleasing him would help him relax, he was probably thinking about seeing her.
Good God, I’m a naïve, jealous idiot.
I swallow again, willing the lump to subside so I can speak even though I don’t know what to say. There’s nothing more frustrating than putting yourself in a situation that you know will end badly. I’m the fucking queen of it. Someone needs to give me a crown.
Gannon runs a hand through his hair and exhales roughly. “I don’t know what you thought that was, but you are wrong.”
“Here’s the thing about that, Gannon. It’s none of my business.”
“Stop it.”
“It’s not,” I say, looking out the window. I’m just the girl you’re fucking this week.
The thought brings tears to my eyes because I know it’s true. It’s what I asked him for—what I begged him for. “I only want one thing from you. And it’s not your heart.”
So how can I have feelings about him talking to another woman? Hell, Victor stopped to talk to me. I suppose there’s really no difference.
“Her name is Tatum McGavern,” he says, his voice controlled.
“Gannon, please don’t.”
“She’s my ex-wife.”
My face whips to his. “Your ex-wife?”
“We got married eleven years ago. We’d been dating for a couple of years, and she’d hinted about wanting to get married. We were in our late twenties and all her friends were getting married. It’s a natural thing to want, I guess.”
“For most people, I guess, so.”
His jaw pulses, and he looks away. “I started working closer with my father at Brewer Group after rebelling for a few years. And the closer I got to him, the more I saw. Just … disgusting behavior. Affairs. Lies. Unethical practices. I’d see all of this and then go into a meeting, and I’d hear just how much I was like my old man.”
He nods slowly, as if he’s reliving the moments.
“They meant it as a compliment, obviously, but it was the worst thing they could’ve said to me,” he says. “I lived my whole life in his shadow. I couldn’t escape the comparisons. I was his namesake, after all.”
His voice catches, shattering my heart. I place both of my hands around his because my presence usually seems to make him relax. But how can I possibly heal the pain of whatever he’s about to say?
“Anyway, Tatum told me she was pregnant. I was stunned. Horrified at first, if I’m being honest. But I knew this was my chance to prove everyone wrong. To do the right thing. To be a man. And I went all in. I married her, built her a house. I worked my ass off to show the world, her, myself, I guess, that I was a family man.” He smiles sadly. “And it all fell apart.”
“What happened?” I whisper.
“There was no baby. And—”
“What do you mean there was no baby?”
He shrugs. “Either the test was wrong, or she miscarried. Or she lied, which is a possibility, but I choose not to believe that. It doesn’t really matter.”
Oh, God. I bring his hand to my lips and kiss his palm. I’m so sorry this happened to you, Gannon.
“When you build something without a foundation, it’s bound to fall,” he says. “If she hadn’t gotten pregnant, we would never have married. She got lonely. Thought I was having an affair—which I wasn’t,” he says, looking so deeply into my eyes that I’m certain that he can see my soul. “We’d fight every fucking night. She’d tell me I was turning into my father and that’s why we weren’t having a baby, because the universe knew I’d be a shitty dad just like mine.”
“That’s not fair,” I say, blinking back tears.
His tongue pushes on the inside of his cheek, his forehead wrinkling. “She probably wasn’t completely wrong about all of that.”
“No,” I say, unbuckling myself. “She doesn’t get to say that to you.”
“She knew me better than anyone,” he says, watching me warily. “I still think about what she said. It’s hard to forget shit like that.” He looks away for a moment, but I still catch his murmured words. “Because there’s still Reid Brewer’s blood in my veins.”
My heart breaks.
“That’s good because I don’t have a heart to give you.”