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)
“Try harder,” she ordered dryly. “Now go. Scoot.”
We gave Callie and Heather hugs, and a few minutes later, we were headed home in Michael’s truck.
“He’s already passed out, huh?” Michael asked quietly as he leaned around me to get a look at Rhett.
“Yep,” I murmured, laying my head on his shoulder. “Charlie fired me.”
“That bitch,” he replied instantly.
I laughed. “Shut up.”
“You feelin’ better about everythin’?” he asked tentatively.
“Honestly,” I sighed. “Yeah. I am.”
“I had a full fuckin’ monologue earlier where I laid my heart out and that didn’t touch it, but an hour with my family did?” He shook his head.
“It was both.” I smiled. “It seems like they’d hate me for taking off on you, but they don’t.”
“Of course they don’t.” He scoffed. “You got railroaded when we were just kids. Took me a minute to figure it out, but I get it now.”
“You do?” I looked up at him, marveling at the way the sunlight turned his brown hair almost golden. His eyelashes were so long that they cast a shadow on his cheek as he watched the road. I couldn’t believe, after everything that had happened, that I was right there beside him again, driving down a familiar road in the middle seat of his truck.
“You never wanted to leave me,” he said quietly, putting his hand on my thigh.
“I didn’t.”
“Your parents—” He paused as if searching for the right words. “They didn’t give you much of a choice, baby. And I don’t mean they kidnapped you.” He looked down at me and then back at the road. “I think I’m startin’ to figure out what that house was like.”
“I think they did the best they could,” I said tentatively.
“I think they completely mind-fucked you and you somehow got out from under that shit after they died. You’re still findin’ your way out of it.”
“Maybe,” I breathed, staring out the windshield. I knew he was right, but it was still hard to admit, even to myself.
“Most importantly,” he said, squeezing my thigh. “You’re not goin’ anywhere again.”
“Never.”
“Then we’re square.”
I huffed out a laugh, and he looked at me questioningly.
“We’re square?” I choked out.
“We’re square,” he said, widening his eyes as he nodded. “You know, we’re good. We’re fine.”
“I know what it means,” I said, my body shaking with laughter. “You were just being so sweet and romantic, and then you said that.”
“What’s wrong with it?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” I gasped, trying to keep a straight face. “We’re square.”
“You’re an asshole,” he joked, starting to laugh. “I’m bein’ sweet here.”
“Of course you are.”
“Emilia,” he barked, trying to act stern but failing miserably as he laughed again. “I love you, and I’m going to fix shit if you need it and I’m going to pay the fuckin’ bills until you find a job you actually like—no, love—and you can just deal with it. If I ever hear about you carrying your own weight again, I’m gonna be super pissed, alright?”
“And we’re back to the romance again,” I replied, wrapping my arm around his waist.
“I’m serious, yeah?” he said, kissing the top of my head. “We’re in this shit together.”
“I know.”
“There’s no my weight and your weight and keepin’ score on who’s doin’ what.”
“Okay.”
“Good.” He nodded and glanced down at me, his lips pulling up in a half-smile. “Then we’re… square.”
My laughter woke Rhett up. I reached out to hold his hand as he stared blearily through the windshield and we stayed that way for the rest of the ride, the three of us connected.
I was still uneasy about not having any of my own income. I still felt a little like something bad was going to happen. But for the first time since I’d left him years ago, I didn’t worry, not even for a second, that Michael would someday realize that I wasn’t enough. As he glanced down at me, so much emotion in his eyes that it took my breath away, I understood that I wouldn’t have to do anything to deserve Michael’s love or his respect. I’d always had it.
Epilogue
Michael
Tiptoeing downstairs, I glanced around the corner and then hurried toward the laundry room, sliding on my socks around the creaky floorboard. I eased open the washing machine and threw in my work clothes from the past week and an exceptionally muddy pair of jeans that Rhett had worn. I’d added soap and turned on the machine when a laugh from behind me had me jerking in surprise.
“You dropped a sock,” Emilia said drolly, swinging the sock from side to side between us.
“Just puttin’ a load in before we go,” I replied with mock nonchalance, snatching the sock out of her hand so I could put it in with the rest.
“You’re sweet, you know that?” she said, leaning against the doorframe.
“Try my best.”
“And sneaky.”
“I don’t need you to do my laundry.”