When will you stop lying to yourself? Just let Chance help you.
If I let him in, he might hurt me again.
That’s the risk you take when you seek love.
If I didn’t let him in, Robert Westmore would bury me. Possibly even Chance too. My ex-fiancé would make our lives hell on earth. How would we—how would I—recover?
After all, I wasn’t December Davies. I had no desire to be an author, therefore, a book deal to feed my bank account wouldn’t happen. By the time he finished devastating me, I’d be lucky to have a savings account.
I dug my phone out of my skirt pocket, sat on the bed, and stared at the screen. Rather than making a simple call, I FaceTimed Chance. If I was going to risk it all with my former boyfriend, I had to see his eyes. He would never lie to my face.
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