I am so excited to share Doves For Sale with you. I am completely immersed in their beauty and grief again.
This POV is from Ezra!
My tears waiver in their cradles, unbidden and unwelcome—yet completely warranted.
I will myself to stand true—not to ruin one more second of her life.
Roman produces a box—a ring—a declaration of mutinous advances and despicable promises.
“Get me out.” I shout at Neil, but realize it’s only a whisper.
I can’t hear the question. I don’t want hear the answer. It’s more than any man should have to bear.
Me—this man—I can’t bear it.
Neil rushes me out, and is toggling between escorting me and his phone.
“It’s Leon. He’s keeping me updated.”
I stop. It’s happening again.
“No. Go back in. I don’t need help. I have this.”
“Move your ass, Ezra. This isn’t Gray or Mara shit. This is your girl getting proposed to by your best friend. This is some seriously messed up shit. Bros before…rat bastards. You know the drill.”
He shoved me into his Jeep and we ended up at his apartment that he shared with Leon.
“I have to go home.”
“And what if Roman shows up? What if they show up together?”
That is it. My stomach had enough. After he opens the door, I plow my way to the bathroom and trip over boxers and shorts. Neil and Leon are pigs. I hear a belt buckle jangle as I get tangled in it before slamming my head as far into the bowl as I could get.
I don’t stop until my face was covered in broken blood vessels and all the hydration had left my body.
My face is on fire. Words and pictures flutter through my conscience without warning.
Exhausted and ready to give up on trying to ignore them, I sit next to the bathtub, more like slouch, and press my face against the cool tub.
“Hey, here’s some water and ice. Your face looks like hell.”
I take the water and the ice and chuck them onto the floor. Ice and water wont’ do me any good now. It’s all over. I might as well succumb to death by vomiting.