Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
I’m met with Santiago’s watchful eyes when I step out of the car. He’s trying to get my pulse, and damn if it doesn’t sucker-punch me again how much Johnny looks like his dad.
“¿Estás bien?” He’s asking me if I’m okay.
“Sí,” I respond, saying yes, plastering on what I’m sure is a fake smile. It’ll have to do. I have time for tears later. Right now, I want to make sure Seb has the best day ever.
“Look, look, look!” Sebastian grabs our attention. Gone are the bike, helmet, and pads. In their place are Tonka trucks, and he’s digging up an area in the yard under the tree. Poor Sebastian has the Keen skin tone, which means we’re lobster red if the sun greets our bodies.
“I see. Are you having a good time?” I walk toward him, plop down on the grass, and pick at the long strands to keep myself busy. The need to pick him up and hold him to my chest is on the verge, but he’s nearing the age where the random hugs and kisses are more on the eww scale.
“Ab-ab-abuela.” Sebastian takes a few tries to get out the term grandma. I smile, silently cheering him on for learning a new word. I’m about to clap my hands like I did when he took his first steps. “We ate, I ride bike, and you’re home.” He may be teetering on the age of four and can talk in complete sentences, but they’re not always conjugated with the correct verbs.
“I heard you ate a lot. Is your belly full?” I ask, keeping him engaged in a conversation. Sebastian is an only child; he also stays to himself and can play on his own when the time warrants. I try to keep him engaged at home, sitting on the floor playing with blocks, putting together puzzles, and making ridiculous car noises as we vroom them around our small apartment. All the other times, I’ll get him to help me in the kitchen with either making a snack or our meals. I’m not much of a cook, but I can do in a pinch, which is probably why Seb ate as much as he did of Isla’s cooking.
“Yes, yummy in my tummy.” He does a little wiggle, arms lifting up, and is literally happy dancing. I can’t say that I blame him. Food is amazing when I can stomach it enough to eat. Sadly, this thing called life, work, and bills makes it impossible when you’re up half the night pacing the floors with worry.
“I’m so happy, baby boy,” I tell him.
“I no baby. I big boy.” This has been happening more and more lately. Damn daycare; it’s a necessity, but it’s also backfiring on me in terms of Sebastian learning more about himself.
“It happens so fast, mija. He’s a good boy. You’re doing wonderfully.” Isla comes to sit on the ground beside us. She finds my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and locking our fingers together.
“Thank you. He’s the best thing in the entire world,” I reply.
“They often are, they often are.” She’s looking at Sebastian, but I know she is reminiscing about being in this exact house and it being Johnny where my boy is. “Things will get better. You’ll see. And later, when the big boy goes to sleep at night, Santiago and I would like to sit down and talk to you about everything and what we can do to help.”
“Isla, this is too much. You have Johnny to think about, and he’s not going to like what’s going on, especially if you and Santiago help me behind his back.” A tightness hits me in my chest. Johnny will be livid when everything comes to light. It’s why I prayed he would sign the papers, and then I could leave town, head back to Georgia, have everything in place, and somehow manage to move on.
“Hush, we’ll talk about it later,” Isla says, then goes on to play with Sebastian. My husband’s family, they don’t know how to take no for an answer; it’s not in their vocabulary. I only hope I don’t screw up the relationship they have with their son along the way.
4
JOHNNY
“Yeah?” I answer the phone without thought. After leaving Asher’s, I went back home, wandered around the apartment, looked at everything that’s still exactly the same as when Winnie left. The exception being the bedding that became threadbare, and even then, without thought, I bought basically the exact same thing we had before. The closet still sits empty on one side, and the same goes for her side of the bed in the form of the things she kept on top of the nightstand. The bathroom with its double vanity sits there like a beacon of light, reminding me every time I’m in there that she isn’t. Instead of sticking around at the apartment, I took a quick shower, changed into business attire, and hit the road to the club. Where I’m currently pouring over the quarterly numbers my accountant sent over this afternoon. Undercover Lovers is in the black, has been since after the first year of opening. The addition of what goes on downstairs brings in double what the main floor does; it also has double the expense as well as double the fucking headache.