Selective/Memory: The "Depth of Emotion" Book 2 (The Depth of Emotion) Read Online Free PDF

casually chatted, almost laughing in her relaxed conversation. Her wild curls piled atop her head, and her blue eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled, made his heart tighten inside his chest. His lungs worked in concert with his memory—she effectively took his breath away. Seeing her was more like a solid punch in the stomach, and the loneliness of missing her caught him completely off-guard.
    Just as quickly as he’d seen her, she disappeared into a little shop, Sandy Anne’s. For a moment, he was frozen. The content of his meeting completely flew from his memory. All that remained was the truthfulness of his heart pounding into his mind how desperately he ached for Aria.
    He recovered quickly, going directly to his car. Once inside, he breathed a sigh of relief knowing that she hadn’t seen him, yet his hands were shaking. A pack of Marlboro cigarettes, left by Carter, sat on the console. It was a habit from his teenage years , but he didn’t have a drink in the car and he needed something. He reached for one from the pack, taking and lighting it as it dangled from his lips. He had prepared to cough after so many years, but only the smell of sulphur burned his nose as he dragged deeply of the nicotine.
    Tossing the pack onto the passenger seat, he threw his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes to take in the agony and ecstasy of the past few minutes. He was an ass the last time he saw her. The dread of facing up to his bad behavior made him feel sick. It was what he deserved after the way he had reacted to her. If seeing her did this to his mind, the awkwardness of actually speaking would have rendered him a fool, for he couldn’t think of anything to say after the words he had spoken when he last saw her. An apology was in order, at the very least, but one hadn’t been planned or rehearsed. He had been so busy trying to forget her that he didn’t prepare for the backlash of emotions as more vivid memories tumbled in. With each time he saw her, his composure disintegrated further.
    What a fool he was! How could he possibly live an existence without Aria? They had friends in common! She still spoke to his brother, for God’s sake! How could he be so self-absorbed that he didn’t even entertain how he’d behave when he saw her again?
    Hell, in the beginning he didn’t even think about seeing her again—he was so busy driving her away. He told himself that it was for her own good, and perhaps it was. She was smiling just now—she seemed happy. Although she looked a little thinner than when he saw her last, she was as beautiful as he remembered, if not more so. He, however, was not doing as well. He had turned into an angry, sarcastic bastard with just about everyone. Their friends were pleasant to him when they saw him, but as he looked down at his injury, his memory strayed back to the accident, and he felt his lips tighten into a thin line.
    Why did she run? Why didn’t she trust him? She was just as much to blame for their split as he was!
    He placed his head on the steering wheel, as he answered his own question. He didn’t give her a reason to trust him.
    She thought that he was putting the business and money before her, and wasn’t he? Wasn’t the success of The Studio and the money becoming more important than she was?
    Their biggest argument had been about her belief that he was compromising his values and overlooking Marisol’s motives. When she saw Marisol at the house with him, she thought it was a continuation of the night before. Part of him wanted to ask her why she didn’t trust him, but the other part wondered if it would even be worth the effort. After everything that she had been through at the hands of Marisol during their relationship, she’d never forgive him for Marisol being in the house that day. That’s what he couldn’t remember.
    Why was he with Marisol that day? Why had she come to the house, and what exactly did Aria see?
    He knew it was bad, and he knew