Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Alessa laughs and Emily rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Little Miss Mafia princess over there.”
Eeep!
“Technically, you can thank me for bringing you in,” Alessa grins at me. “My father was the one who got Bull, Diesel and Shrapnel on the plane where you met.”
Alessa is a Giordano?
I'm not sure how to explain that I basically hold the secret to blowing open every secured computer system in the world as long as I can get close enough. Somehow I think in this group it would just end up another piece of crazy club trivia, and there’s actually something comforting about that. This might be the only place in the world where I could say that I met my future husbands during a plane crash after my narcissistic father tried to disrupt the world economy without completely killing the conversation.
Future husbands? Now I’m the one dreaming.
“I feel a little bit like a stray cat that you’re all adopting.”
“We've all been there.” Mila says with a laugh. “Just let it happen.”
My phone buzzes. It's Diesel.
Coming to pick you up in a moment. I heard you’re at Viking’s place. Just warning you so that I don't have to overhear you telling the girls how amazing I am in bed.
“I'm getting picked up. Thank you for inviting me, it’s been nice.” I take a quick sip from the sparkling cider and grab a pastry for the road.
Alessa sees me out and makes me promise to come back if I stick around. She seems really certain that I will.
And when I see how Diesel looks at me when he comes to pick me up, I start thinking she might not be wrong after all.
Future husband? I tell my mind to shush.
24
DIESEL
“How were your parents?” Rory asks. She glances back at Alessa’s house with a wistful expression on her face.
Such a simple question, with such a messy, complicated answer. “Why?” I try not to sound too defensive.
“I don't know. I don’t feel like I had a horrible childhood. My mother signed me up for all the right things. I went to a very highly rated school with excellent teachers. My father paid child support on time and then made sure that my education and career were taken care of, but… I don’t think either of them really wanted me. I’ve never even really thought seriously about if I want kids or not. All I know is that I don’t want to bring a kid into the same situation I had.”
“You'd be a great fucking mom.” It just slips out of me, not even questioning it. But I believe it, too.
“Would I? I got to hold Kaylee’s new baby, and she was so small! Alessa was excited to hold her, and Kaylee seemed tired but like this little pink blob was the love of her life. Just seeing them with their kids and the way they talk about their families, it made me wonder if anyone ever smelled the top of my head and smiled.”
“That’s a really fucking specific thing to wonder about.”
Rory laughs. “It is, isn’t it? But do you know what I mean? Was my relationship with my mother always broken? Or was I just a difficult baby?”
“Uh, I’m not sure I’m the one to judge, but I think your mom’s just a shitty mom.”
She snorts skeptically.
“She fucking sold you out to your father. Maybe she’s an okay human being, but that doesn’t mean she did right by you.”
“Yeah, I guess.” She kicks a big chunk of gravel that's gotten onto the courtyard. It rolls into the grass.
“Fuck that shit. You have a bitch for a mom and a fucking cartoon super villain for a father, and somehow you're still fucking amazing. So none of this bullshit about what kind of mom you'll be. If you decide you want kids, you'll be fucking great because you’ll go full nerd attack on it, and newsflash, giving a shit about your kids is part of raising them, not just picking a good school.” I slide my hand around her waist and tug her into me. She grunts when we bump together, but she doesn't pull away.
“You didn't answer my question.” She snakes her arm around my waist, too.
“Doesn't matter.”
“Of course it does.” She sounds hurt. Fuck, of course she is, but my story ain't easy listening. Hard enough to think about it on my own, never mind telling someone else.
“Leave it.”
She stops, forcing me to turn to her if I don't let go. She wets her lips, picking her words carefully. “Don’t run away screaming, but I think we’re good together.”
“You and me?” I do too. That's why I don't wanna make her the one that runs away.
“You and me. Shrapnel and me. Bull and me. All three of you together.”
I try to laugh it off. “The old ladies got to you? Thinking we can give you what they've got?”