Page 29 of Nothing Without You
My heart pounded inside of my chest when I turned and looked down at the hem of his shirt.
He did—in fact—rip his shirt for me.
You didn’t rip your shirt for someone you hated.
You didn’t rip your shirt for someone who meant nothing to you.
You definitely didn’t rip your shirt for your ex-girlfriend who you felt nothing for.
“Christian,” I looked up at him through my lashes.
“Go, Adelaide,” he interrupted sharply. “They’re waiting.”
I wanted to stay here for a moment. With him.
But that would be self-sabotage.
Which is why I turned back around, walked up those steps, and rehearsed mechanical words.
I’m in love with Christian Hayes and we’re to be married by the end of this month.
But only for one year.
ELEVEN
CHRISTIAN
I was jetlagged,exhausted, and Adelaide hadn’t spoken to me since we left the hall which succeeded to piss me the fuck off.
When I brought the car around, she sat in the back while Osama openly snickered. The two talked about movies and books the whole way to Morning Star—a smaller cafe and lunch spot in the heart of New York—which opened about a year ago. According to Adelaide’s Instagram, this was her favourite spot.
Not once did Adelaide give any of her enthusiastic attention to me. Smiles were bright but only for Osama, and dimmed whenever I pitched in.
“I transferred a million dollars to your personal account,” I interrupted Osama’s talk of some Queen of Tears k-drama. “It should be enough for your personal needs for now.”
“To mine,” Osama gasped with faux excitement. “Why, thanks Christian! All this time I thought you were an asshole.”
Adelaide’s gentle laugh collided with the beats of my heart with a ferocious pressure.
Hands tightened around the wheel. Going to Switzerland and coming back to New York in one day wasn’t for the weak. I left late afternoon yesterday, fought for the ring, and arrived back at the same time the sun rose.
Fucking drainedanddesperately in need for black coffee.
“I’ve purchased the new computers.”
She furrowed her brows. “Why?”
“What’s mine is yours.” Through the rear-view mirror, we locked our gazes. My stentorian heartbeat vibrated to the tips of my fingertips, tapping restlessly on the wheel.
Osama blew out a low whistle. “Why aren’t the computers shipped to my place? I feel like it would be better since, you know…” He erased himself from the conversation when he caught my murderous expression. “Never mind.”
“Excuse me? Who decided that it would be at your place?” An inferno scorched manically in Adelaide’s eyes.
Casually, I replied, “Idid.”
“Oh really,” an arched brow. “That wasn’t in the contract.”
It was my turn to laugh.
