Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
I stared at her. The woman had suckered me into a marriage, stolen millions of dollars, had me imprisoned for a crime she’d committed, and hidden the fact that I had a daughter for years. And yet…a part of me believed her.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Why’d you do it?” I asked.
That had been the number one thing I’d pondered over and over during the first months of my sentence—until I decided it didn’t matter, and that I wouldn’t ever move on by focusing on shit I couldn’t change.
Max looked down for a few minutes. When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes. “You didn’t really love me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I loved you.”
“You have a really fucking funny way of showing it.”
“For years I wanted you, and you didn’t see me. You saw me as your partner, not one of the women you took out and slept with.”
“I fucking married you!”
“And you still didn’t love me the way I loved you.”
“So you decided to screw one of our employees, steal money, and set me up? To what? Punish me?”
“I thought Aiden really loved me.”
“You can’t be that fucking desperate for a man to love you.”
“I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t make sense. But I was angry that after all those years of loving you, you still didn’t love me like you should have. Once we got married, I thought about backing out of what Aiden and I had planned. Deep down, I still loved you and thought maybe you would finally love me back. But you didn’t see me as the love of your life.”
I stared at her, completely dumbfounded—and too damn angry to continue this conversation. When her tears started to fall, it made me even more pissed off at myself. I shouldn’t have felt bad for her. Yet I did.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“I need to take a walk. I’ll be back in a little while.”
***
I walked for a good hour along the nearby promenade. Actually, at some point, I started to jog, then run, then sprint as fast as I possibly could. It wasn’t until I was bent over, with my hands on my knees gasping for air, that I realized what I’d done. I’d needed my breath to catch up to the speed of the shit flying through my head.
What the fuck was wrong with Max? I hadn’t loved her enough? We were fucking friends, business partners. I’d never had a damn clue that she had feelings for me. It wasn’t like she’d told me, or even made any advances in that way. I’d thought we’d gotten married on a whim, while drunk on an island vacation celebration. It was a joke at first, until she’d suggested we give it an actual try. After a bit, I’d started to settle into the arrangement. It had seemed convenient for both of us. So maybe I didn’t love her the way a man should love a wife, but that’s a reason to ruin my life?
All this time, when I’d reflected back, I’d assumed she was just pure evil. I’d had no idea that she was batshit crazy and evil. We’re talking Glenn Close, Fatal Attraction, bunny-boiling crazy here.
After I’d calmed down, I realized I needed to put this shit out of my head for the sake of my daughter. Ella had to be my priority now. I couldn’t let Max steal any more time from me. So I walked back to her house, took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell.
The little face that yelled my name when the door opened gave me strength to go back inside.
***
“Today is Wednesday,” Ella signed as she spoke. I really needed to learn a shit ton more sign language. I’d learned a few words and sentences on various YouTube videos, but Ella seemed like she had an entire language down.
“Yep. Today is Wednesday. Can you teach me how to sign that?”
Max had left us alone once Ella seemed comfortable with me. I was grateful to concentrate on her and not have another pow wow with her mother.
Ella nodded and went through the motions of signing the words again.
“Like this?”
I signed them, and she cracked up.
“No. Like this, silly.”
She did it again, and I’ll be damned if I saw any difference. But I gave it another shot anyway.
She laughed again. Apparently I’d still done it wrong. Ella folded my thumb and pinky down, bringing them to touch together, and then stopped and showed me the same position of her hand. “W.”
“Ah. I get it now. The three fingers form the letter W.”
I had no idea when kids started to spell, but I was pretty damn sure it wasn’t before the age of three. Yet my daughter knew Wednesday began with W. My chest expanded a little bit.