Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
She comes so willingly that now I’m starting to be concerned. Where’s the woman who bit my head off for even existing a few days ago, for disrupting her so-called perfect life, and the one who accused me of trying to ruin her career?
Something is deeply wrong. “Talk to me.”
A sniffle has her vibrating against my chest, and then she whispers, “Please know I tried to tell you.”
Stroking the back of her head, I ask, “Tell me what?”
When she pushes back, putting space between us, her cheeks are stained with red lines where her tears are falling. The hazel of her eyes is brighter with green under watery lashes. But the fear that crushes her pretty features concerns me most. I cup her face, breaking the streams on her cheeks with the pads of my thumbs. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong, Liv. Please.”
She takes hold of my hands and then leads me inside the lobby. “We need to get upstairs.” Her breath shakes as much as her hands, but she walks with purpose. As soon as she punches the button to call the elevator, she looks up at me. “All I ask is that you allow me to explain.”
What the fuck am I walking into? “Explain what?”
“You can hate me, but please don’t hate Maxwell.”
“Who’s Maxwell?”
The elevator opens, and we step inside. She pushes the button for the twelfth floor, then takes a deep breath. “Maxwell is my son.”
13
Noah
“You have a son?” I follow her down the hall as she rushes toward a door at the far end.
Without breaking pace, she replies, “Yes.” Sticking the key in the lock, she hip butts it open and runs inside. “Cassandra?”
She disappears inside before I reach the door, so I let myself in, closing and locking it behind me. I wait a few seconds to be told where to sit or to make myself at home, but then decide she’s busy taking care of her friend. This night has taken an unexpected turn. I’m not sure if it’s for the better or worse, but I’m sure she won’t leave me in suspense.
Speaking of suspense, who the fuck has she been with where she got pregnant? Have I read this situation with her all wrong? Is she dating someone? She dropped that bomb without further explanation, like I wouldn’t have a million questions. Then again, maybe that’s why she kept it a secret for so long.
Oh shit.
I just had the worst thought . . . Chip better not be the fucking father. That would be messed up. Okay, so I have a rough estimate of when they were dating, but I’d need to know the kid’s age as well. As much as I’m ready to dive in like I’m on an expedition for the truth, I don’t think I’m ready to think of another fucker hitting on her, much less anything else.
If she were mine, I wouldn’t be having a secret romance. Nope. It would make headline news. Jealousy creeps through my veins, and if I ever met who she’s hooking up with, let’s just say I’m not in the mood to go to prison. I turn my attention toward the apartment. A mirror with hooks hangs by the entrance, a thin table rests against the wall, and a mix of kid shoes, pink sneakers, and heels litter the floor underneath them. I keep walking, but I can’t get the fact that Liv is a mom out of my head. She dropped it like a bombshell, but I’m not sure why. And more importantly, why would I hate her or her kid? That makes no sense. What kind of monster does she think I am that I could hate a baby?
She doesn’t know me well, but she doesn’t need to worry about me getting along with her family. There’s a lot of mystery to uncover, but not today.
This is not something I’m going to be able to figure out tonight, though. I’m taking the wins, the information she’s willing to share with me, and calling it a victory.
Considering it’s night and only a few lamps are on, the apartment feels wide open and fairly large by New York standards. It’s on trend using modern style with a feminine softness of rounded corners instead of harsh edges.
The walls are light in color, not stark white, but a warmth that invites me forward into the larger space. Unexpected and the opposite of her ice queen title. I knew that because she’s been giving me glimpses of the real her since we met, but it’s good to see I was right about her. She’s not as hard as she tries to convince everyone.
The furniture is not sparse, but every piece serves a purpose. It’s serene in this room, with varying shades of beige, cream, and other neutrals. My mom would love it here. It’s bright compared to the darker colors I chose for my apartment.