Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“If I ever see her again—” I start, my voice so tight it takes everything in me to not call her and rip her a new asshole.
“Hey,” Ariella says, turning in my arms, my arms still wrapped around her waist, “look at the bright side.”
“What fucking bright side?” I ask her and she smiles at me.
“Did the words sting?” she asks me and I just look at her. “Yes,” she admits to me. “But look at where I’m at.” My hands move from her waist to her ass. “Are you here with me?” she questions. “Are we not going to spend the night on the couch?” She looks over at the couch. “Well, maybe not the couch because there might be chocolate syrup that could leak on the cushions when I take your cock down my throat.”
“We weren’t going to do that. I was thinking you would be on your back and my face would be between your thighs,” I refute, “but we are definitely doing that now.”
“Exactly. So she can spew whatever shit she wants to spew. But in the end, we’re here together and we are going to have a baby together. So as much as what she said stings, I’m choosing to ignore it because in the end”—she smirks—“I win and she doesn’t.”
“You shouldn’t have to be in a position to choose to ignore anything. I have treated her with respect because of Kirby, and I expect the same respect to be given back.”
“Jaxon.” She rolls her eyes. “You can’t honestly stand there and think she has any idea how to fucking behave. She’s a spoiled child who thinks she’s better than everyone else. Just like Tiffany who stormed into your house and then called your mother to complain about you.”
“Tiffany acts like my birth mother,” I finally admit. “That is how she used to act with the other wives. Like she was entitled because my father wore the C on his jersey.” I close my eyes. “It’s why she didn’t want to divorce him. Tiffany was just like Angela…” My voice trails off. “Fuck! I was with a carbon copy of my birth mother.” She puts her hands on my chest. “I would have been miserable,” I confess to her. “She would have used my baby as a pawn.”
“Can we not talk about her anymore? She doesn’t matter. And as crazy as it is, I’ve never been more grateful for a tampered condom.”
“Fuck, you’re right,” I say, chuckling. “Let’s get you something to eat and then let’s get my cock in your mouth.” She shakes her head and walks away from me, going to the fridge.
“This man, always worried about where his cock is going to be,” she mutters as my phone beeps, and I look down to see Kirby sent me a message.
Kirby: Hey, man, I’m sorry about before. Please extend my apologies to Ariella. Angela isn’t going to bother her anymore. It’s over.
I answer him right away.
Me: You okay?
Kirby: I will be.
I’m about to put my phone down when I see I got a text from the photographer for the team. I open it up and see he sent the pictures he took of us. There is the picture that we posed for, but then he added the three pictures he took I had no idea he’d done.
She’s skating beside me, her hand in mine, as she looks up at me and smiles, and I’m saying something to her. It’s when we were talking about our memories.
“What are you looking at?” She comes over and looks at my phone.
“Those are so cute,” she says as I press on them and save them to my camera roll.
“I’m posting these to my social media. Is that okay?”
“I mean”—she shrugs—“if anyone else posts pictures, we might be in the background.”
“Don’t sound so happy about being on my Instagram,” I tease her. She grabs my phone from me and then does something as she hands it back to me. Her phone pings and I see her pull her phone out of her back pocket. “What are you doing?” I ask her and she ignores me. The next thing I know, I look down and see, “Ariella Weber has tagged you in a post.”
“There, happy now?”
I open up the app and right there on the top is the picture of the two of us skating side by side, her laughing, but my eyes go to the caption. “I guess he’ll do.” I can’t help but laugh at the caption. “All of a sudden, she’s a comedian.”
“I was always a comedian”—she wraps her arms around my waist—“it just took you a while to notice.”
“Touché,” I tell her as I put up my own picture and my own caption before turning it to her. “Now I feel better.” I see her smile getting bigger as she reads the caption. “Making her laugh since day one.”