Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“So, that’s it? You’re digging your heels in and deciding this can’t work before you even give it a try? All so you can commit to being a hermit and say it was for your son?”
“So I can finish raising my son right, yes. And that’s not even getting into how I’d complicate Winnie’s life. She’s too young for me even in the rosiest circumstances.”
“Oh, Archer. Your poor bruised ego…” Mom shakes her head. “Age is a number. Nothing else matters when two people hit it off.”
I snort. “Nothing and everything for a lasting relationship. How many times do I need to say you’re asking for the impossible?”
“About as many times as I need to remind you there’s nothing wrong with a positive attitude, dearie,” she tells me, tapping her nails on the table. It’s pretty obvious where Dexter got that habit. “If you believe it can work, if you’ll stop shooting down a good thing before it has a chance to bloom, miracles can happen.”
“Miracles. That’s great,” I mutter. “Or maybe I’ll go and get everybody’s hopes up only to blow everything to pieces. I can let you down and confuse Colt with one stone. Brilliant idea.”
“Like you’re doing now, you mean?” She stares through me. “Not every woman is another Rina, Archer. You can’t let the divorce ruin the rest of your life.”
Knife, meet guts.
That’s Mom, though. Always willing to strike deep with brutal precision out of love.
I exhale slowly, refusing to show how deep it cuts.
“Rina,” I spit. Her name alone damn near gives me hives. “I don’t even know what she’s doing in our lives again. I’m sure you heard about it from Colt. Needless to say, I don’t trust her.”
Mom looks at her nearly empty bowl, her expression unreadable, before she looks up again. “She came around here yesterday, you know.”
“What? Again?” I can’t hide my outrage.
“Watch your tone.”
It’s an effort to moderate it, but every single turn this conversation takes just makes me more frustrated.
“Why did she come over here again? To beg you to hand over a piece of the family fortune? To kidnap Colt?” I’m only half joking. She’s been gone so long I don’t trust her intentions.
“Actually, she wanted to apologize,” Mom says, laying her cutlery down so she can look me full in the face. I fold my arms.
“Apologize for what?”
“She knew you wouldn’t hear her out, so she came to me.”
What. The. Fuck.
Hearing that hits like a buffalo stampede.
I push my chair back and pace the room, too restless to stay put.
“Damn right,” I growl, raking a hand through my hair. “Some nerve. After everything she’s put us through—all the money I’ve pumped into her accounts just to keep the peace, raising Colt alone—and she still had to pester you with some big fake apology?”
“Archer—”
I shake my head, snarling. “See, this is what I mean. Exactly why I’m not getting involved with another woman. The drama, it never goes away.”
“Archer—” Mom raises her voice.
“I don’t care how sweet Winnie is or how good you think we’d be together.” I’m running my mouth in a way I haven’t in a long time, but I need to get this off my chest. “You need to take whatever bullshit Patton told you with a boulder-sized pinch of salt. Stop fixating on relationships that aren’t happening.”
“Archer.” Mom watches me with hooded eyes. “Sit down.”
Her eyes are deadly serious.
I sigh.
“Are you listening now, at least? We’re friends. Nothing more.” I slice my hand through the air, drawing an invisible line that feels weak even as I say it. “She’s nice and I’m helping her out of a tight spot. I promise you that’s it. We’re not dating and we will never be anything more.”
“Okay,” Mom says, her voice softening.
You could chew the thick silence between us.
I’m panting, I realize.
I’m getting fucking winded over this, my shoulders tight with stress.
“Sit down, darlin’. I didn’t mean to wind you up.”
Grumbling, I drop back in my seat and lean back, the wood creaking under my weight. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this pissed.
I already regret half the shit I said, sure.
Especially about Winnie Emberly.
It’s almost enough to make me forget she’s still in the house until she comes back in the room.
She flashes us a shy smile, tucking her hair shyly behind her ear.
It isn’t fair.
It’s cruel that she looks so gorgeous I could feast my eyes on that pretty face all day. Before I met her, I didn’t think I had a ‘type.’
Now, I do.
Her.
Every little detail from the soft freckles dusting her cheeks to her maddening hips to the way she laughs like a song.
“Winnie,” Mom says with relief—probably because she didn’t walk in a split second earlier. “I was worried you’d gotten lost, hon.”
Winnie’s face splits into a wide, buttery smile as she retakes her seat.