The Bosun: A Military Romance (Love is Blind Book 3) by Harlow Layne (e reader pdf best .txt) 📗

“Thanks, man. I’ll do that. It’s not like I can get her alone to tell her I left a note. If it was that simple, I would tell her what I had to say. I’m the bad guy now. All the guests look at me like they want me dead, so it’s obvious Stella told them what O said, and they all believe her.” I stretched my neck out, trying to loosen the tight muscles.

“Sucks to be you.” Dean patted me on the back as he walked past me. “I’m going to go rest before I have to start dinner. Good luck.”

“Thanks again.”

On my way to Stella’s room, I decided I’d put the letter I wrote in her bag, that way no one else would find it. I only hoped she’d read it when she saw it.

The only problem was I had no idea which bags or even which side of the room was hers. There were two purses on the dresser: one black and the other a dark purple. From what I knew about Pen and Stella, I was guessing the purple was Pen’s and slipped the letter into the black one before I zipped it shut.

Backing out of the room, my radio went off, letting me know it was time to pick them up.

I’d finished my mission just in the nick of time.

10

Stella

Pen squealed as she spun around like a little kid trying to get dizzy and fall down. “I can’t believe you’re finally here and unpacked,” she said as she plopped down beside me on my plush white couch and closed her eyes.

“I certainly didn’t think it would take this long to find a place to live.” I looked out my wall of windows to the Pacific Ocean that was now my daily backdrop.

“Real estate is a hot commodity in Malibu.” Pen rolled her head to look at me. “Plus, you wanted to find your dream house. There’s no sense in buying a house you’re not in love with.”

That was true, but I was desperate to get out of Oasis once we got back from our trip. Since then, it had been four long months of watching Brock’s fiancée get bigger and bigger and then giving birth and the town talking about it. I hated seeing the pity on their faces every time I went out that it got to the point I pretty much stayed at home unless I was house hunting.

“Hey,” Pen turned toward me and grabbed my hand. “I found something in my purse last night, and I feel so stupid it took me so long to see it.”

“Okay,” I drew the word out, wondering what the hell she was talking about.

“Listen, I know you’ve been bummed about Remy, and I get it. You put yourself out there only to find out he was a cheater, but the thing is, I don’t think he is an actual cheater.”

Now that got my attention.

“What do you mean? Why are you all of a sudden coming to his defense?”

Pen had been the leader of the hate Remy bandwagon, telling us we should ice him out, and it had worked. Remy stayed away as much as he could, and when he had to be around us or me, he kept his head down and went on with his work.

Her mouth thinned out into a grimace. “Because I found a note from him in my purse.”

“What?” I jumped back into the cushions and shouted. “Did you read it?”

“Kind of. I didn’t know what it was at first, and then…” She pulled a piece of paper out of her hoodie pocket and handed it over. “Read it and see for yourself.”

Plucking it out of her hand, I slowly unfolded the piece of paper, unsure if I was ready to read what Remy had to say. And did it really matter when I’d never see him again? Not really, but it would make me feel better that I didn’t make the worst choices in men.

Tears filled my eyes as I read it. Not because Remy said he wasn’t a cheater, but from his belief in me and that he thought our time together was special. Without the ugliness that ensued, our time together had meant something to me. It signified that I was ready to move on with my life.

As the first tear fell, Pen’s arms wrapped around me as she laid her head against mine. “See, he’s not a bad guy.”

All I could do was nod. I knew if I spoke, I’d turn into a sobbing mess.

“Too bad he didn’t leave his number.”

Something that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a sob came out as I opened my mouth. “I wouldn’t use it if he had.”

Pulling me closer, she whispered, “Why not?”

“Because what good would it do? It’s not like I’m going to fly to Spain for a booty call. If I had his address, maybe I’d write him a letter saying I forgive him and no hard feelings. Really though, what can I do?”

Pen sighed, making my hair blow in my face. “Nothing, but I thought it might make you feel better about the whole experience.”

“Really?” I asked with a raised brow. Remy wasn’t the only downside to the trip.

“Well,” she pulled back enough so that our eyes locked, “to feel better about letting him bang you. I’m not sure you’ll ever get over the way Reagan was toward you.”

“Would you get over it?” She shook her head and let me continue. “All my life, I’ve been told how I’m not white enough or not black enough, and all the stereotypical things that go with being black because then I’m black to them. I know how to swim, goddammit, and I hate fried chicken and watermelon. If they don’t like it, they can all stick it up their asses.”

“I know you have, and you know I’ve loved you for who you are since the day