Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Tor
The solicitor told me Jude wouldn’t get my letters. That communication between the two of us is strictly prohibited, which is why I’m standing outside Lizzy’s front door in shock at the letter that came in the mail, dated two weeks ago—the day after Jude’s trial.
Tor,
You need to move on with your life. You have your identity back. You have your family back. You are where you belong.
You were meant to be a doctor, get married, join a fucking country club, not fall in love with me. I am not, and never was, right for you. You had no other choice but to love me, Tor, because you are a survivor. You loved me to survive. I know you can't see it now, but one day you will. I will make sure you are taken care of. The love I have for you, for our baby, is genuine. You are my world, and fuck, do I love you, but you have to move on with your life.
You may be right for me, Tor, but I am fucking wrong for you.
I will always love you,
Jude
Tears fall down my cheeks. I know what he's saying makes sense. Jude will be in prison until he dies. My pining for him is only causing my misery, but the thought of letting him go feels so impossible and hurts so much.
I tuck the letter into my purse and fight back tears as I step inside Lizzy’s house, freezing in the entranceway when I see a woman in dress pants sitting on the couch beside my sister.
“Victoria,” Lizzy says, offering a soft smile. “This is Mrs. Morgan from the adoption agency.”
Any sense of sadness Jude’s letter had caused is quickly consumed by anger. My jaw tenses, and I bring my hand to my stomach like my daughter needs protection.
Mrs. Morgan rises to her feet, holding out her hand. “It’s so very nice to meet you.”
“I’m not giving my daughter up for adoption.”
The lady’s smile fades, and she casts a confused look at my sister before glancing back at me. “I know it must be a hard decision, but—”
“No!” I brush past her, my pulse on a steady incline. Then I stop in front of Lizzy. “I am not giving up my child.”
“I know you think you love him, but—”
“I do fucking love him, Lizzy.”
She rolls her eyes, and that sends a hot rage scorching through my veins. She has no idea what I’ve been through, what Jude and I have been through together. “Think whatever it is you need to make yourself feel better, but this is my choice.” I shoot a stern glare at the woman from the adoption agency, then excuse myself to my room. My annoyance and anger at the situation grows with each step I climb, but by the time I close my door, a deep sense of loneliness begins to set in. I’m so alone without Jude, and the very person who should love and support me, my sister, feels like an enemy.
At one time, all I wanted was to have my old life back. Now all I want is my life with Jude. No one here will ever understand me or accept my daughter. I feel like a stranger, a foreigner, an intruder, and I refuse to have my child grow up feeling unwanted by those who should love her. No matter how much Jude thinks I belong here, I don’t. No matter how much he thinks I should move on, I can’t.
I rummage through receipts in my purse until I find the crumpled piece of a courthouse envelope. One Marney gave me at Jude’s trial in passing with his number scribbled across the middle. That brief moment in the old man’s arms was the closest I’ve felt to home since Jude was taken from me, and he’s the closest to home I’ll ever get. Which is why I call Marney and ask him to come to get me.
_____
The flight made me nauseous, and Marney ended up shouting at one of the stewardesses for not having ginger ale.
We’ve been riding down a tiny dirt path for the past half hour, driving through overgrown shrubbery and endless palm trees. Finally, the car rolls to a stop in front of a gate. Marney pays the driver, and we get out to grab our luggage from the back. A warm breeze drifts around me, carrying with it the soothing scent of the ocean as I follow Marney up a cobblestone path.
A huge house peeks out from behind the palm trees and island foliage. White with bright-blue plantation shutters and a terracotta tiled roof.
"Damn, boy," Marney mumbles on his way up the wooden steps that lead to the front door.
The inside is breathtaking. Tall ceilings with tall windows. Everything is new and perfect, and pain squeezes my chest because Jude did this for us. And he’ll never see it.