for us while I’m here in Scarsdale; a night at the theatre, a picnic at Chase Park tomorrow, a trip to the Greenburgh Nature Center.
“Please, Jasmine,” his clear blue eyes beg. “I really didn’t mean to offend you.”
My shoulders relax a little. I really shouldn’t overreact about this. He did say it was a hypothetical question. Maybe I should just let it go.
I push a sigh. I have an uneasy feeling in my gut, but I decide to swallow it down. The man sitting across from me is a catch. There’s an army of women that would kill to spend a weekend with him in his hometown. Yes, he made a serious faux pas suggesting that I marry him to help with his campaign, but guys – read, Liam Cartwright – have hurt me in worse ways and I’ve found it in me to get over it. I guess that what Chess did isn’t that bad.
“Okay, Chess. I’ll stay. But no more talk of marriage. Got it?”
He flashes that winning smile and suddenly, I’m not so mad at him anymore. “Got it!”
Chapter 30
I stick the spoon into the pot and scoop up a thick, sticky glob of unsweetened oatmeal.
I should hire a cook or at least go online and order some damn groceries , I think to myself as I shovel the tasteless cereal into my mouth.
I finish off the few remaining spoonsful and drop the pot into the sink. The sun shines brightly as a small bluebird comes and sits on my windowsill. I see a group of women jog by on the asphalt outside, laughing and chatting, clad in tiny spandex exercise gear.
Saturday morning.
I roll my eyes as I trudge over to my bed and drop down onto the mattress. People look forward to the weekend. It’s a time to recharge from the exhausting week, spend time with loved ones and make memories. But me, the weekend just reminds me of how alone I am and the only memories that come find me are the ones I’d rather forget.
My mind drifts to Jasmine. She’s out there in Scarsdale with that Pretty Boy Politician and I’m here…alone.
She should be with me. She belongs with me. I wish there was a way to make her mine. But between my night terrors, my drinking problem and my need for the safety of seclusion, not to mention my disfigured face, I’m just no good for her at all.
I turn over in my bed and come face-to-face with the bottle of whiskey I’d pulled out in a moment of weakness last night. It’s sitting next to a bottle of sleeping pills on the table right beside my bed. I’d managed to say ‘no’ then, but now, I’m not too sure I’ll be able to battle my demons sober again this morning.
Fuck – I’m just so tired . My crippled body. My crippled soul. I’m less than human. The war has left me less than human. And I don’t have the energy to fight, to pretend that I’m just an everyday Average Joe. I’m way too fucked up.
I toss back two sleeping pills, chasing them down with a swig of scotch.
I can’t pretend that I’m human right now. Not when another man is stealing the only woman I’ve ever cared for and I’m too much of a coward to fight for her.
Chapter 31
Jasmine sticks her head past my office door at 11:30 on Monday morning.
“Hey,” she chirps, her eyes beaming. She looks beautiful, her creamy skin glowing, her hair long and silky, falling around her face.
“Hey,” I say struggling to keep my eyes on her face instead of wandering down to the smooth flesh exposed at the neckline of her modest gray shift dress.
Is she more beautiful because I haven’t seen her in two days or did she actually get prettier over the weekend?
“Is now a good time?” she asks apprehensively still lingering in the doorway.
I nod and gesture for her to come in.
She grins and approaches my desk, gently placing a plastic container in front of me. “I made you lunch. You always get me lunch, so today’s my turn.”
I feel my pulse thumps wildly. “Wow. Didn’t expect that.”
“Please, Jasmine,” his clear blue eyes beg. “I really didn’t mean to offend you.”
My shoulders relax a little. I really shouldn’t overreact about this. He did say it was a hypothetical question. Maybe I should just let it go.
I push a sigh. I have an uneasy feeling in my gut, but I decide to swallow it down. The man sitting across from me is a catch. There’s an army of women that would kill to spend a weekend with him in his hometown. Yes, he made a serious faux pas suggesting that I marry him to help with his campaign, but guys – read, Liam Cartwright – have hurt me in worse ways and I’ve found it in me to get over it. I guess that what Chess did isn’t that bad.
“Okay, Chess. I’ll stay. But no more talk of marriage. Got it?”
He flashes that winning smile and suddenly, I’m not so mad at him anymore. “Got it!”
Chapter 30
I stick the spoon into the pot and scoop up a thick, sticky glob of unsweetened oatmeal.
I should hire a cook or at least go online and order some damn groceries , I think to myself as I shovel the tasteless cereal into my mouth.
I finish off the few remaining spoonsful and drop the pot into the sink. The sun shines brightly as a small bluebird comes and sits on my windowsill. I see a group of women jog by on the asphalt outside, laughing and chatting, clad in tiny spandex exercise gear.
Saturday morning.
I roll my eyes as I trudge over to my bed and drop down onto the mattress. People look forward to the weekend. It’s a time to recharge from the exhausting week, spend time with loved ones and make memories. But me, the weekend just reminds me of how alone I am and the only memories that come find me are the ones I’d rather forget.
My mind drifts to Jasmine. She’s out there in Scarsdale with that Pretty Boy Politician and I’m here…alone.
She should be with me. She belongs with me. I wish there was a way to make her mine. But between my night terrors, my drinking problem and my need for the safety of seclusion, not to mention my disfigured face, I’m just no good for her at all.
I turn over in my bed and come face-to-face with the bottle of whiskey I’d pulled out in a moment of weakness last night. It’s sitting next to a bottle of sleeping pills on the table right beside my bed. I’d managed to say ‘no’ then, but now, I’m not too sure I’ll be able to battle my demons sober again this morning.
Fuck – I’m just so tired . My crippled body. My crippled soul. I’m less than human. The war has left me less than human. And I don’t have the energy to fight, to pretend that I’m just an everyday Average Joe. I’m way too fucked up.
I toss back two sleeping pills, chasing them down with a swig of scotch.
I can’t pretend that I’m human right now. Not when another man is stealing the only woman I’ve ever cared for and I’m too much of a coward to fight for her.
Chapter 31
Jasmine sticks her head past my office door at 11:30 on Monday morning.
“Hey,” she chirps, her eyes beaming. She looks beautiful, her creamy skin glowing, her hair long and silky, falling around her face.
“Hey,” I say struggling to keep my eyes on her face instead of wandering down to the smooth flesh exposed at the neckline of her modest gray shift dress.
Is she more beautiful because I haven’t seen her in two days or did she actually get prettier over the weekend?
“Is now a good time?” she asks apprehensively still lingering in the doorway.
I nod and gesture for her to come in.
She grins and approaches my desk, gently placing a plastic container in front of me. “I made you lunch. You always get me lunch, so today’s my turn.”
I feel my pulse thumps wildly. “Wow. Didn’t expect that.”
Similar Books
