AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Dreams I used to have. I snort, amused yet not, at the irony of it all. Twisted, bitter irony. It tastes lousy.
But do I really have to go? Johanna can be dismissed. She can pull stunts all she wants on social media, and none of them will result in us being engaged. If I go that route of ignoring her, I don’t have many obstacles that would keep me from staying here with Aubrey.
Her news of a job here surprised me. I’m proud of her for trying to move ahead with her life. She’s a scrappy woman like that, and I admire that about her. If she’s hooked on teaching here, I could come here in order to let her keep her work a priority. I can do my business remotely. I could be like Caleb and head to the city only as needed, infrequently.
Or…
I could sell my company. Retire early and live off my savings to focus on my foundations. I’ve got more than enough money to afford it, and my real estate empire isn’t about obtaining or maintaining my wealth. It’s always been about having a purpose, of having something to work on and strive toward.
But I can do that with my foundations, too. And remotely.
The more I ponder it, I grow more excited about making that decision. To up and leave New York after cashing out on my company and stocks. To stay here and pursue happiness with Aubrey.
Why not?
I sigh, gazing at her as she lies here so peacefully, unaware of the frantic thoughts I’m piecing together in my mind.
Am I being too rash?
Is she worth it?
Am I just thinking below the belt and not my head? My heart over my head?
Worse, I wonder again about the deeper wounds with fresher scar tissue.
What if she leaves me? Or cheats?
I mentally groan, too worked up to just stay in bed and fester with the bombardment of questions hitting me. Without waking her, I slip out of bed and head into the shower. Caleb is right. The Goldfinch bed-and-breakfast has the best water pressure. I stand there for a long while, not caring if I get wrinkly. The steam soothes me. The hot water kneads the tense muscles of my upper back and neck. It’s no solution or remedy to my troubles, but I do feel better after relaxing in there.
I don’t have ample time to think. Instead, I zone out, and it helps somehow. When I step out, dry, and get dressed, though, I feel sharper. My mind isn’t clear, not even close, but I feel relaxed and ready to be rational, at least.
I exit the bathroom to find Aubrey sitting on the edge of the bed. She looks sexy yet untouchable. I know she’s naked, but with the sheet wrapped so tightly around her, it would require immense patience to unearth her.
For good reason. She’s erecting walls again, putting her guard up. I can tell. She’s holding my phone, looking so damn sad.
“Johanna called you eight times.” She won’t make eye contact, keeping her gaze downcast. I hear the pain in her tone. “Eight times in fifteen minutes. Why?” Now she pierces me with her eyes, and I hate the agony I see there. She pins me with such a direct look that it hurts.
Dammit. I should’ve told her. Caleb warned me. He told me I had to come clean and explain everything about Johanna. He’s right, and I was already aware of how I needed to do this. I told Aubrey the basics about it back at the resort, but I’ve neglected to tell her the latest. That my ex is going crazy to share blatant teases that she wants to be engaged. I’ve screwed up. Again.
I should’ve told her!
“Look, she’s got issues. She wants to talk—”
“No. Someone wanting to talk calls once or twice and leaves a voicemail. They don’t stalk you and call obsessively.”
“She is obsessed though.”
She raises her brows.
Not the right thing to say. I need to reassure her, not scare her. “Johanna has it in her mind that we can get back together. She’s trying to force me to come talk to her even though I’ve told her many times that we’re done.”
With a sad sigh, Aubrey shakes her head and looks at the floor again. I can’t stand this lack of eye contact. While I loathe the way she puts me on the spot with that direct stare, I hate this disconnect. Even if I feel like squirming and I’m uncomfortable to have to answer to her, I will. She matters too much to mess this up.
“I thought you said…” She clears her throat.
“Look at me. Please.”
I watch her throat as she struggles to swallow. Her eyes are glossy when she faces me, and her expressions slays me. So does the sad tone of her voice when she speaks. “I thought you said there was something between us—”
