Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“What do you mean?” she asked, tipping her head back to look at me. Goddamn, she was beautiful. Even with her eyes red-rimmed and her face blotchy from crying, she was almost startling to look at she was so pretty.
“I mean, the club’s got resources and we can check to make sure he’s still doin’ his shit in Arizona and stays that way.”
The expression on her face was there and gone in an instant, but I still knew exactly what had gone through her mind. I tightened my arms around her.
“We’ve got contacts all over, sugar, but they got no idea how to find a middle class businessman that hasn’t even had a fuckin’ speedin’ ticket. You coulda been anywhere.” I brushed her hair away from her face. “But some douchebag that runs a strip club in Nowheresville, Arizona—I could find out plenty about that guy.”
“We lived in Mesa, not Nowheresville.”
“Same shit.”
Her little huff of laughter wiped away the last of my rage, leaving me the calmest I’d been since she’d shown up with Rhett.
“Sure,” she said with a sigh. “You can look into him.”
“Wasn’t askin’ permission,” I joked.
“You wouldn’t know who to look for if I didn’t tell you his name.”
“Can’t be that many strip clubs in Mesa.”
“You’d be surprised,” she shot back, smirking.
“I’m just glad you weren’t dancin’,” I said with a sigh, pulling her with me as I leaned back against the counter. “You’re bendy, but you have fuckin’ terrible rhythm.”
“That is unequivocally false,” she argued, her smile turning into a scowl. “I’m a great dancer.”
“Sure you are,” I replied, my lips twitching.
“I am!”
“I know.”
“Quit agreeing with me.”
“You’re a fuckin’ great dancer,” I said, trying to keep my voice serious. “I apologize.”
“I totally could’ve danced at the club,” she huffed. “If I’d wanted to.”
“I’d rather see you on a pole,” I replied without thinking. She pinched me hard. “What? It’s not like I want anyone else seein’ you. But pole dancing is hot as fuck and I bet you’d be good at it.”
“How is this even a conversation we’re having?” she asked in disbelief.
“No fuckin’ clue.”
She laid her head against my chest. “I know that we’re not good yet,” she said with a sigh. “But I still feel a little better.”
“That’s what dinner with my grandparents’ll do to ya.”
“That helped,” she agreed. “But talking about shit helped even more.”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you,” she breathed.
“For what?”
“For all of it. There are a million different horrible ways all of this could’ve played out.” She tipped her head back to look at me. “Believe me, I imagined most of them.”
I scoffed. “Not for us.”
“I’m still scared,” she said with a sigh. “But not of this. Not of you.”
“Really?” I murmured. “Because I’m terrified as hell.”
Chapter 9
Emilia
After our discussion in the kitchen, Michael and I came to an unspoken truce and things became surprisingly… normal. Or at least our version of the word.
Michael’s home transformed as I unpacked the Subaru bit by bit and little cars, building blocks and stuffed animals were strewn across the house. A basket of bath toys found a place under the sink in the master bathroom, the only bathroom with a tub. Rhett’s shoes and mine became tangled up with Michael’s in a pile by the front door.
I went grocery shopping and started making dinner for the three of us. Michael went to work and came home smelling like the garage. I brought Rhett to visit Heather and called around to different preschools—he wasn’t old enough for any of them and I was secretly relieved. I wasn’t ready yet. Michael took Rhett out to the hammock when it wasn’t raining and half the time Rhett fell asleep while they swung lazily from side to side.
If I stared a little too hard when Michael washed his hands before dinner, mesmerized by the way he scrubbed his muscled forearms, he didn’t mention it. When his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets after Rhett had splashed me with bathwater, making my white shirt nearly transparent, I didn’t say a word either. We partnered on tasks that required both of us and otherwise orbited around one another, close but never too close.
Wednesday’s dinner at Callie and Grease’s house was chaos in the best way. Kids ran from one end of the house to the other and cousins, aunts and uncles filled every piece of furniture. Their voices filled the house from floor to ceiling, a symphony I’d never thought I’d hear again.
Only two people had cornered me, Michael’s aunts Molly and Rose. The two were like night and day, Rose asked pointed if not aggressive questions while Molly talked around the subject but basically asked the same things. I wasn’t surprised by their questions or the fact that they’d somehow culled me from the rest of the group, but I had been surprised by the way Michael had immediately noticed and saved me. He was on guard the entire night, his shoulders and neck visibly tense, but I thought the whole thing had gone surprisingly well.