Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“What happened with your marriages?”
“We’re only flying to New York, kid. China wouldn’t be enough time to unpack that bag.”
I smiled. “How about what happened with Mom?”
Dad sighed. “I was young and stupid. Arrogant, too. I put my life and my business before her and you. We had different priorities. Hers were right. Mine weren’t. I regret that now, not changing my life to be who she needed. I thought building an empire was the most important thing. Turned out, none of it ever meant shit without your mother. You know, I asked her to marry me again a few weeks ago. But she turned me down. It was too late for us.”
“You’re also married to wife number three, so there’s that…”
We both laughed.
Dad rested his hand on my shoulder. “You’ll figure things out with your girl. No one else can but you.”
* * *
The cab pulled up to the rented house in Boston at 8 a.m. I looked it over like it was my first time seeing it—white picket fence, big yard, nice house. The neighbor next door waved as I grabbed my bag from the trunk. She was walking her little girl, who was about seven or eight, to the bus stop.
I stood in the street for a minute, even after the cab pulled away.
I had a good life. A beautiful girlfriend, a baby on the way, a promising career—even if it wasn’t in England. So why was I holding back? Maybe Whitney wasn’t the love of my life, but I did love her and the baby … Well, at least I cared for her deeply. They deserved commitment. It didn’t have to be Mom’s ring. I bet Whit would like to pick out her own anyway.
I took a deep breath and decided. Fuck it. I’m asking her to marry me. And if she says yes, we’ll do it before the baby’s born. My kid should have a family. If I waited for things to be perfect, my kid would grow up shuttling between two houses like I had. Whitney and I would just have to work on it, that’s all.
Blood pumped through my veins as I went up to the house. I unlocked the door and tiptoed inside, not wanting to wake her—but maybe I should. Maybe I should propose right now. We didn’t have much time left before the baby came. Hell, it could be today.
Setting down my bags, I slipped off my shoes and walked down the hallway toward the bedroom. It sounded like maybe Whitney was up anyway. Or if not, she’d fallen asleep with the TV on. The door was shut, and as I opened it, I heard what sounded like grunting.
Nice. Was she watching porn? It had been a while since we’d had sex, so that was a welcome surprise. Maybe my proposal could wait an hour or two … And if she was sleeping with that on, I was most definitely waking her.
I walked in feeling more upbeat than I had in a week. And then I froze.
I was definitely not going to have to wake Whitney. Because she was up on all fours on the edge of the bed while some guy plowed into her from behind. The two were so busy, they didn’t even notice someone had walked in—not until my phone hit the mirror above the dresser a few feet away. It cracked again, shattering into a million pieces. Just like my life.
“What the fuck?” I roared.
The guy jumped back. Whitney grabbed for a sheet, pulling it up over her chest like being naked was her biggest problem.
The guy took one look at my face, one look at the size of me, and very wisely backed away. He held his hands up. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“Well, you fucking found it anyway!”
But … why did the guy look so familiar? It took a few seconds of staring, while debating which leg I was gonna break first, for it to come to me. The guy from the mall. And I wasn’t sure how I hadn’t recognized him when we saw him again, but he was also the guy who’d been watching Whitney the night we met.
It felt like my blood was boiling, I was so filled with hot rage.
The guy grabbed his clothes. The motherfucker was lucky as shit that I was so surprised, or he’d be pounded into the ground by now. He ran past me, looking like he was going to piss his pants.
And that—that’s what Whitney was focused on. She screamed after the guy. “You freaking wimp! Running away like a damn coward!”
Un-freaking-real.
I shook my head. “You’re lucky you’re a woman.” I pointed to her, then to the door. “Get your goddamned clothes on and get the fuck out of my house.”
“Gladly!”
This woman had some set of balls. No apology. Not even an attempt at faking embarrassed or ashamed. She acted like I’d done something wrong. I needed to put some distance between us so I didn’t explode. So I stormed into the living room and waited for her to get dressed.