When Lily Langston goes to a game with her best friend. The last thing she ever thought to happen was being hit in the face with a ball.
But what left her even more shocked was when the guest pitcher himself, the known ruthless billionaire Hayes Gr...
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My fourth mug of cocoa is handed to me. I can't tell if my hands are still red from the ice or the mug.
Olive always had a good way of keeping me whole and together. Especially after anxiety attacks, she was always there to soothe my needs. But this one was worse because it was new. Most of the time my father was a phone call away afterwards.
But he was behind a gate I was locked out of. One that held the unknown with no knowledge behind it, that I wouldn't be able to see until I died. It was unfair, my coping mechanism was gone.
My father was the greatest man to ever live and that is something I will standby. But I missed him fiercely and in this moment it felt more painful than usual.
"I don't understand why you can't leave the arrangement now. I mean it would suck but you could settle for less money" Olive suggests flicking through the Netflix rom-com as her other hand runs through her new feline friend's hair.
"It's a year with two million dollars attached to it. I'm almost done, it'll be over before you know it" but there lies the problem, moving on afterward. Because I had gotten used to Hayes, not his recent hurtful words. But he as a person had become accustomed to my life. But the make-believe one was even better.
But that's a problem, you really can't fall in love with someone if that's not really who they are. Because then you've fallen for a stranger, a ghost perhaps. Because that version of him, truly doesn't exist.
"Well, you said the birthday weekend went well?"
"It wasn't real, it wasn't Hayes it was him playing a part. He was in the character of a loving husband who'd slip up a few times. So yes it went well, but it's because it wasn't real just pretend" I suck the rest of the whipped cream off the top and let it glide down my throat followed by the burning sensation of the steaming cocoa.
I focus on the mug as she stares at me. But then a knock at the door distracts the both of us. She chucks the clicker onto the couch and leaves the cat alone. The door opens and I see her.
Mrs.Morgan stood with her famous cookies in hand as her gaze fell on me. A solemn smile spread across her face as she stared at my puffed cheeks and red nose. This was embarrassing she probably heard me sobbing as I walked down the hall.
"I figured you could use a few of my cookies" I signaled for her to come in and sit. So she does, she takes the seat across from me and places the cookies on the coffee table.
"So what's your trouble dear?" I didn't want to speak them, to Mrs.Morgan, the woman was too excited for me about my wedding. But here I was sitting across the couch from her, a fraud.
"My husband isn't really my husband" I state the words so simply, that of course the look on her face crosses weirdly at me.
She fiddles with her knitted red cardigan and a glass of water is placed beside her.
