Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I close my eyes at the sound of Raven’s voice. She’s a sweet girl, but she doesn’t handle crowds well. Meanwhile, I can serve the whole diner on my own. I am well aware I didn’t go to college for four years to be a waitress, but it’s an honest living.
“I’m coming.”
“Thanks, girl.”
I open my eyes, looking at my reflection as I blow out a breath. I bite into my lip as I muster the courage to go out there. I know he hasn’t left. He won’t until he speaks to me, and I don’t know what he is going to say. Will he apologize? Will he beg me to come home? I can’t help but wonder if he’s called my parents yet. Are they on their way? Am I about to be ambushed? I have a feeling he hasn’t, though. Not yet. He’ll want to smooth things over with me first, which will give me time to hightail it out of here.
A new round of tears burns my eyes at the thought. I’ll be leaving Ruby, and it’ll break her. I have money saved up; I can relocate, but I won’t have Ruby. Once more, I’ll be leaving behind someone I love. Can I do that a second time? I always thought when I left Ruby, it’d be to go home. And maybe I should. Maybe it’s time. I’ve been gone long enough, and in all honesty, I should face the music.
But the guilt of doing that is so overwhelming, I clutch my chest as I lean into the sink. Damn it, maybe I should just run now. Everyone already thinks I’m a coward. Why not live up to their opinion of me? I press my lips together, squeezing my eyes shut. I miss my mom and dad so much. I miss Ingrid even more. I missed her graduation, which only leaves me with more shame. She’s a freshman in college, and she’s thriving. I can’t even begin to explain how many times I’ve picked up my phone to check in on her. Instead, I relied on her social media to watch her. Each time she posts, my heart aches for her. I fucked everything up because I know she’s mad at Thatcher for my leaving. She hasn’t posted anything of him since I left, and there used to be a photo of her in his jersey at least once a month.
The guilt is devastating.
I clean my glasses free of tears and head out. Raven was right; the diner is packed. I’m thankful. It allows me to focus on everything but him.
A total lie.
Even as I bust my ass to get everyone served, my eyes keep drifting to check on him. He has a half-eaten Dutch baby in front of him, and so do his two buddies. I’m pretty sure one of them is Owen Adler, but I don’t know the other. I’m glad Thatcher’s with Owen. That means our friend group is still intact, even though I left. It doesn’t ease my self-reproach, but it does please me. I don’t want him to be alone. I want him to thrive, just as I had assumed I would. Instead, I’ve been living in the past, trying to figure out what to do next. Going through the motions of life and not moving forward.
Yes, I’ve grown. I had to. I went from having everything at my disposal and working because I loved being a physical therapist to working because I have to. While I was raised with money, I know how to work for what I want. My dad didn’t have anywhere near the money my mom did when he met her. See, Mom, she comes from old, old money. The kind that is so disgustingly excessive, you can’t help but gawk at it. She always told me, though, “It’s old money, but it’s mine to grow and make new for when it’s yours.”
My mom is the most generous person I know. She donates to so many charitable funds and is on the board of the IceCats Foundation with Thatcher’s mom. They did the same back in Russia when they were younger. They may have been born into wealth, but they give back just as much. Thatcher’s parents had a prenup, and even though everyone pleaded with my mom to get a prenup with my dad, she refused. She said her heart knew he was hers.
She was right, and I always thought I’d have what they have.
I press my teeth into my bottom lip as I glance over my shoulder to where Thatcher sits with his phone in his big hands. He’s typing, and my stomach drops. Are my parents on their way? I know if I take off, though, he’ll only follow me. I glance out the wide windows to see if there is an army of men waiting, but the parking lot is just full of cars. He’s the only one here, hopefully.