Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
If she only knew I went and rented myself out to the first rich man who came calling—
God. I’ll never live it down.
Yeah, no, I can’t go there.
There’s only one place left I can go, I think, and my stomach clenches at the thought.
Nana was right there for the last breakup. She saw the tears, the heartbreak, the way I came undone, and I vowed she’d never see me like that again.
It was never supposed to happen again, dammit.
Yet here I am.
My throat pinches shut as I stuff everything into the van and drive it back to the store. I can’t have my staff asking uncomfortable questions, so I’m careful to drop it off and keep out of sight, settling under a tree by the curb.
I close my eyes, breathing raggedly through my nose, looking at my options on Uber for a pet-friendly driver with an SUV.
At least at Nana’s, I won’t have to pretend.
I’ll tell her the truth, and because she’s Nana—because she’s a guardian angel sent down to save me from my own insanely bad decisions—she’ll listen with the same tenderness that’s always held me up.
No judgments, no—though she’ll have plenty in her own head—and she’ll be there for me like always.
While I wait for my ride, I go from stoically controlled to barely holding it together.
I think the driver takes pity and spares me any small talk as he helps me load my stuff into the trunk and drives me across town. I spend the journey staring out of the window as Catness yowls next to me whenever we roll over a pothole.
When the car pulls up and the kind driver gently unloads my stuff on the curb, I see the front door open.
It takes Nana eleven seconds to make her way to me. Eleven seconds of Catness screeching by my feet in his carrier and me panicking, struggling to come up with some nice, emotionless way to tell her how I’ve ruined my life.
Eleven seconds of this pressure in my chest that makes me feel like I’ll never make it through this.
Eleven seconds of that great, yawning emptiness threatening to swallow me completely.
All it takes is for me to look up and really look at her.
Then I burst into tears.
“Oh, Junie! Oh, honey, what’s wrong?” She pulls me into a hug as Catness continues making his displeasure known. It starts to rain, but I barely notice and I don’t care. Every breath feels like it’s coming from my stomach.
Dexter’s gone.
We’re over and done.
And it wasn’t real—it wasn’t real—but it felt like the truest love I’ve ever experienced.
And I just walked away from that and there’s no going back.
It hurts.
I didn’t walk into this thinking it could bust my heart like a brittle ornament, but now as I sob on Nana’s shoulder and she holds me so tight I don’t need to worry about breathing, I appreciate how deep it hurts.
“I know, I know,” Nana whispers, and I believe her. “Oh, my darling, I know.”
I close my eyes and let her hold me together as I bawl my little eyes out.
I stay cloistered in my room for an entire day, alone with the past.
Nana refitted it into a guest bedroom, but it still has my old blue wall and the same wardrobe, the same familiar bookcase, just full of books she thinks guests will want. None of my old fantasy books or old romances, the worn paperbacks from secondhand stores she insisted I bring with me to the new apartment.
Dexter doesn’t call once.
Honestly, I mostly never expected him to—not after the fight we had or the way I left while he was gone without even a note—but part of me subconsciously expected to wake up to a text or call anyway.
It’s the same dumb part of me that wants to hold on to what we had a little longer, I guess.
But if I’ve learned anything from this train wreck, it’s that I can’t let that part of me win.
After calling in sick to work—something easily believable by the thickness of my voice—I sit in my room with my new laptop, looking at numbers, toying with ideas for improving the Sugar Bowl and wondering if we can get by without the other half of Dexter’s payout.
I don’t think he’ll be that heartless, though. I’ll probably get the money as a parting dropkick to the heart.
That’s actually more depressing than losing the money, so I turn my attention to trashy midday TV for a distraction.
Before I know it, another day is shot.
“Junie?” Nana knocks gently on the door. “Time for dinner.”
“Go ahead and eat without me, Nana. I’m not hungry.” I wipe my nose on the back of my hand.
“You might not be hungry, June bug, but you will eat when you’re in this house. Downstairs in five.”
Groaning, I fall back against the bed and stare at the ceiling, marveling at how easily she makes me feel like an unruly teenager again.