Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
What’s ironic is that there’s no glamour here, nothing noteworthy. Just a woman who cries herself to sleep at least once a week still. A woman who’s struggling to move on because I’ve never been with anyone else. I suppose it’s what I get, though. I loved posing for the cameras and practically lived for regular mentions in the gossip columns. This is what I deserve. They wanted in my life and I let them. I can’t expect them to be shut out now.
Days have turned to weeks and weeks to months. Now that my husband’s been gone for nearly eight months, I have plenty of cracks in this so-called perfect life. I’m still shattered but I’m working on gluing little pieces back into place.
I glance at myself as I tug down my dress just slightly and smooth out the black lace. It’s time to face the music.
I clear my throat as I turn off the light and grab my phone, checking the text again.
Are you sure you don’t need me to pick you up?
Kat’s a sweetheart. She’s always looking out for me. Of all my friends, she’s the one who still texts me religiously, which is insane because she’s constantly working and I have no idea how she finds the time.
My fingers tap, tap, tap away an answer. I’ve got it. Leaving now.
The Penrose is only twenty minutes away if there’s no traffic. Seeing how it’s 9:00 p.m. on a Friday night, I’m prepared to sit in the back of a taxi for half the night.
A light sigh slips past my lips as I bend down to pick up my favorite Louboutins. With a row of spikes up the back and red-lacquered soles, they have exactly the touch of color and attitude I would’ve worn back then. I almost second-guess the simple black dress I’ve picked out. It’s a nod to Audrey Hepburn. But looking over my shoulder at the darkened bathroom mirror, all I see is one of the options I had for Jace’s funeral.
I would’ve worn this dress last year before it all happened. Back when I was happy and everything was how it was supposed to be. And don’t I want to be that girl again? I want to find a way to move forward on a new path.
Holding the heels in one hand and the iron banister in the other, I descend the winding staircase.
I’m not that woman any longer; I’ve changed. I accept that, but I don’t love who I am now. The crying and feeling sorry for myself. I need something. A change and some light in all the darkness. Eight months of a pity party and being stuck in a rut is long enough. I’d like to say that Jace wouldn’t want to see me like this, but I don’t even know what Jace would want for me. I’ve quit wearing my wedding ring, although it still sits on my nightstand. I’m ready to find out who I am without him beside me.
Before I open the front door, I glimpse out the large stained glass window in the foyer. It’s nothing but gray outside, and the hustle and bustle is only a fraction of what it could be.
Heavy rain greets me when I step onto my small porch. I decided not to bother with an umbrella, simply grabbing a stylish trench coat on my way outside. Quickly taking the steps to the street out front, I hail a cab. My heels click as I wrap the belt around me and tie my coat tight when the first taxi comes to a slow stop in front of me.
I could have called for someone to do this, to order me a cab so it would be waiting. I could ask for help with so many things. I’d rather do it myself, though.
The light breeze and rain feel real. The rain is cold to the touch and I’m sure I’ll be regretting my decision soon. But it’s something different. I don’t want anyone’s help. I just need time.
Climbing into the taxi, I shake off the gathered rain from my jacket; the inside of the cab is warm and welcoming. I push the hair out of my face and say, “Penrose, please.”
“You got it,” the cabby says as he glances over his shoulder to look at me. His thinning black hair is oiled over and he’s more than a little overweight. The buttons on his striped shirt are straining to keep it shut.
I can see curiosity in his eyes but just as he opens his mouth to ask something, I don’t know what, I turn to look out the closed window and thank him.
Everything outside is wet and dreary. The people walking by move quickly and a couple only about ten feet away are fighting over an umbrella. It’s a cute little struggle though and the tall man in a navy blue Henley lets the woman win. She’s dressed in formal work clothes, while he’s in casual attire. But as soon as she takes full control of the umbrella, she walks closer to him and he wraps his arm around her waist.