Page 22 of Mr. Edwards
Those words have him smiling again. “A soul mate is a person that’s made especially for you. The other half of your soul.”
“Wait what? We’re born with only half a soul?”
My dad lets out another small laugh followed by more coughing. It hurts so much to see him like this. He was always so strong. He used to carry me around on his shoulders with zero effort at all.
“Technically no, I was speaking metaphorically. I guess what I’m trying to say is after your mother came into my life, I felt more whole… complete.”
“Oh,” I reply because it sounds like gibberish to me. Maybe the medication he’s on is making him a little crazy.
“I’m not doing a good job of explaining, am I? I can see the confusion on your face.” I shrug in reply. “I’m not saying I wasn’t happy before I met her, because I was. I had a good life growing up. Things just became better once your mom came along. One day you’ll find your own special someone and you’ll understand.”
I hold back my gag because I’d rather eat a slug. “How did you know she was the one?”
“It’s hard to explain, Gray,” he replies, pausing for a moment to find the right words. “It was like a sudden realization, an enlightenment you could say; I just knew in that instant she’d become my wife one day.”
“But how?” I ask because none of this is making sense.
“Well for starters, when she smiled at me all the air expelled from my lungs. That had never happened to me before. Something told me she was different from all the others prior. It was a strange feeling, but my heart just knew in that moment she was mine.”
Even at my impressionable age, it seemed a little far-fetched, but I’d witnessed the love they shared firsthand. They both lit up when the other was around; they couldn’t be in the same room without touching each other, or kissing—which was kind of gross—but something deep inside me just knew he was speaking his truth.
It was one of the last conversations I’d have with my father, he slipped into a coma two days later and was sadly gone from this world by the end of that week.
Chapter 4
Carlee
I discard the facial wipes I just used to remove my makeup, into the small trash bin next to the vanity.
Moving to my hair, I carefully pull out the pins before dragging a brush through the long blonde strands. The curls I put in before I left to go out tonight are still there, making my hair spring back up on release. I brush my teeth and strip down to my underwear, dumping my dress into the laundry hamper.
My thoughts filter between my best friend and the hot guy who detained me at the club tonight. I don’t usually like being manhandled like that, but for some strange reason he made me feel safe in his arms.His panty-dropping good looks had absolutely nothing to do with it.I roll my eyes at myself in the mirror.
Who am I trying to kid?
Poor Emma was quiet on the Uber drive home, today turned out to be a total bust for her. Or did it? She said her and that Ashton guy just talked, but her red lipstick was smeared all over her face like some kind of freakish circus clown, so I knew there was more than words exchanged. I didn’t push her for more informationthough, that’s not how our friendship rolls. I know she’ll talk to me when she’s ready.
Padding back into my room, I move over to my dresser to grab a T-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. I feel safe here, but I can’t go to bed naked. I’m still held captive by my past, and therefore I’m compelled to be ready to flee just in case.
As I slip the shirt over my head, my phone dings. I left it sitting on the nightstand to charge. Pushing my feet through the legs of the shorts, I slide them over my hips before reaching for my cell. I’m expecting something from Emma, thinking she’s ready to open up about what happened with that twat-waffle tonight, but it’s not her name that I see.
Unknown: Hey. Hope you got home safe. What are you up to?
Future Mrs. Edwards: Who is this?
Unknown: Wow! Am I that forgettable? You wound me, pretty girl.
Future Mrs. Edwards: ???
Unknown: We met earlier at the club. You may have already erased me from your memory, but I can assure you you’re still alive and well in mine. You’re kind of hard to forget. *insert cartoon heart eyes here*
A woosh of air leaves my lungs as I reread what he sent. A second later another one comes through.
Unknown: The night is still young, do you want to meet up? Our time together was short… we need to rectify that.
Unknown: ???
His messages are coming in rapid succession. I barely get time to formulate my reply before the next one arrives. I eagerly throw myself backward, landing on my mattress with a bounce and a tiny squeal. I know he asked for my number, but I wasn’t confident I’d hear from him. He’s all GQ-model-worthy hot, and I’m just… well me.
