Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
He forgot.
Sure, it was a year ago, but he just walked into my café, into the place where he was inside me, and he…forgot.
I don’t want it to hurt. I really, really don’t.
But it does. It’s a knife in the back, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. The chemistry was off the charts. The sex was incredible.
Or so I thought.
But I guess, according to Callum, the encounter was utterly forgettable.
And that makes me feel cheap and, frankly, like garbage. I was discarded plenty as a kid. It hurts just as bad as an adult.
I deliver their order, and the asshole has the fucking audacity to ask me out to dinner.
The answer to that is a hell no.
My friend Willa comes in with her son, Alex, which is a nice distraction. Maybe Ellie and Callum will just take their stuff and go.
But after Willa leaves, I realize I’m not so lucky.
Callum approaches the counter, and I square my shoulders.
“Aspen,” Callum begins. “I owe you a big apology. I just got off the plane after being up for thirty hours, and—”
I hold up my hand, and he closes his mouth.
“Is there something else you need?” My hands are shaking, so I link them behind my back and hope he doesn’t notice. I want to throw up. I want to cry.
But I won’t do any of that, not in front of him.
“Yes, to bloody apologize,” he says, but I shake my head. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“Let’s get something straight,” I reply immediately, feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks in anger. “You didn’t hurt me. It takes a hell of a lot more than an egotistical, full-of-himself prince to hurt me. Besides, you don’t know me, remember? What do you care?”
“Well, I—”
“That was a rhetorical question,” I add. “Now, if there’s nothing more I can do for you, I’m closing early today.”
“We’re leaving,” Ellie says, pulling on Callum’s arm as she looks back at me in apology. “Thank you, Aspen. Let’s get together soon, okay?”
I smile at my friend. “I’d love that, Ellie. I’ll text you soon.”
“Lovely.” She pushes Callum toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Once they’re gone, I rush to the door and lock it. When I’m alone in my office, I let the tears come.
The son of a bitch forgot me. I didn’t expect him to fall over himself to see me or say hello. But to completely forget? It’s absolutely unforgivable.
I wipe my cheeks and resolve not to shed another tear for Callum Wakefield.
Chapter 1
~Aspen~
Present Day
“I hate today,” I mutter as I climb out of my car in front of Brooke’s Blooms and walk inside the beautiful floral shop. It’s late summer, and the fragrance that assaults my nostrils is glorious. This used to be my favorite time of year.
Used to be.
“Hey, Aspen,” Brooke says with a wide smile. She’s a pretty, petite woman with dark hair and an artistic eye for flowers. She never ceases to amaze me. I couldn’t put a bouquet together to save my life. And, thankfully, I don’t have to. Because I have Brooke.
“Good morning,” I reply. “I’m here to pick up the wreaths.”
“Of course. I’ll grab them from the cooler.”
She steps into the walk-in refrigerator. A few moments later, she comes back holding two wreaths, each about two feet in diameter, before setting them on the countertop.
“Beautiful,” I whisper and gently tickle the petals of a sunflower with my fingertips. “You did a wonderful job, Brooke.”
“I’m glad you like them,” she says. “Are these for your front door? Or for Drips & Sips?”
I shake my head but offer her a small smile. “No, they’re just something pretty to remember something I lost. Thanks again. You outdid yourself.”
I square the tab with her and leave the shop, a wreath in each hand as I walk back out to my car.
The drive to the little state park at the edge of Whitetail Lake doesn’t take long. It’s a beautiful late September morning. The sun is up, the birds chirping.
And I’m here to remember my dead husband and daughter.
I take the wreaths from the car and walk down to the shoreline. I’m alone down here, which I counted on. I don’t need anyone witnessing my grief. I’m a loner, an introvert at heart, and aside from a few very close friends, this isn’t something I plan to share with anyone. Especially strangers.
I squat next to the water and pick up Greg’s wreath first. I chose red peonies and lots of greens for his wreath. The peonies were in my wedding bouquet, and the greens are because Greg enjoyed being out in the wilderness more than almost anything. He said it’s where his heart was on fire.
And it killed him.
It killed both of them.
I was angry for a long time, but I can look back with bittersweet fondness now. I loved my husband with a passion. He was my match in every way. Had been with me since high school when I bounced from foster home to foster home.