From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer novel Chapter 24

Chapter 7

New York was in chaos. Isabelle was a sobbing mess at the wedding.

The Wilson parents‘ faces were grim. They sent wave after wave of people to find Soren, but no one could bring him back.

On the day of the cremation, the doctor insisted on scattering my ashes according to my wishes.

Soren knelt on the ground, completely dejected. He tried several times to stand, but his trembling legs gave out.

Afterward, he wandered the town with unsteady steps, like a lost soul.

Finally, he stopped in front of the ruins of my shop.

I watched, half annoyed and half amused, as for the better part of the next month, Soren just stood there in the ruins like a solitary, unmoving tree.

The charred building looked ready to collapse, but he looked even more fragile.

I suspected he was losing his mind. Why else would he keep talking to the broken walls and shattered windows?

He said that after I left New York, he fell gravely ill and refused to see anyone.

“Tessa, every time the door opened, I thought it was you. And every single day, I was disappointed.”

I looked down, trying to remember what I was doing that year.

I was spending my nights sleepless, constantly feeling how huge the world was, and how I wasn’t connected to a single person

in it.

“I know Ryan and the guys were all looking for you. He usually acts like women are disposable, but even he knew you were irreplaceable to me.”

Ryan did come looking for me that first year.

I wouldn’t let him in. He got so furious he smashed the light box by my door.

“Damn you, Tessa! Soren is a wreck because of you, and you won’t even go see him?”

I wouldn’t.

Soren was always a trickster, always playing little mind games with me, which is why I was so hard on him when we were together.

He’d often be all smiles, holding his swollen cheek while sweet–talking me into forgiving him.

Because of that, Ryan and his friends couldn’t stand me, and Soren’s parents hated me.

Soren was still talking to himself.

From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer: Smile, Ex

16.7%

Chapter 7

“Later, I thought I should just try to live without you. I dated a lot of women, all different kinds, but they were all a little bit like you.”

Some for a few days, some for a month or two. Isabelle lasted the longest.

I thought of the one and only phone call I had made in five years and lowered my head.

She had an innocent face, not really like mine, but the subtle way she’d lift her chin or lower her eyes was very much like the old me.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify