Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Dude, I love her. You don’t know her like I do. She’s actually pretty great when you get to know her.” He follows me around the apartment like a dog that just destroyed my slippers and wants forgiveness with a pat on the head.
“She’s mental. Sweet one minute, raging the next. Good luck with that.”
“It’s just hormones. And I want you to be my best man at our wedding.”
“Whatever.” I dump my toiletries into a duffel bag. “You know where to find me.”
“Come on, Flynn. Just because you’re not sleeping on my sofa doesn’t mean our friendship has to end.”
I turn and peer down at him because he’s a couple inches shorter. “Get on your knees and say please.”
He squints for a second, then he starts to kneel on the floor.
“Get up, dipshit.” I grab his shirt and pull him back to his feet. “You have nine months to grow a pair. Don’t be a little pussy of a husband and father. Be the man of the house. Piss standing up. Shit wherever you damn well please. But never lay a hand on her or your kids. Got it?”
Monroe swallows hard and nods.
I release him and gather the rest of my stuff. Then I drag the trunk toward the door.
“You know I’m not a pussy. I just care about you, man. And I don’t want you to hate me for choosing a chick over you.”
I stop at the door and bow my head while closing my eyes. “I bought June a car today. Spent half my paycheck on it. Then I refused to have sex with her because I like her so much, and I don’t know how to do the whole relationship thing. No fucking clue how to tell her about my time in prison because I’m scared of losing her. So who’s the pussy now?”
Monroe grabs his keys and shoves his feet into his Jordans. “You should live with her.”
“She has a roommate.”
“So?”
“So, I can’t buy her a car and then confess that I need a place to live.”
“Why not?” He shuts the door behind us before lifting the other end of the trunk.
“I don’t know,” I mumble on the way down the stairs.
After he helps load the trunk into my car on the street, I playfully punch his shoulder. “Just go back upstairs. I’ll figure something out.”
“What?” He takes a step backward. “No. It’s no big deal. I don’t want you doing anything stupid like living in your car.”
“I’ve done it before.”
He winces, shaking his head. “No. You have too much money to do that shit.”
I open the car door. “I have a better idea. Don’t worry about me.”
“Flynn—”
“Just go back upstairs. I’ve got this.”
He sighs, shoulders curling inward.
“Hey,” I say, and he looks up. “Congratulations. Really.”
Monroe grins. “Thanks. I’m scared out of my fucking mind.”
“Yeah? Well, you should be,” I say, getting into my car.
For a few seconds, I consider driving to June’s apartment, but my ego overrules that idea. I don’t want to be the male version of Naomi. Suddenly, Ally feels forced out of her home or made to feel like a third wheel. Instead, I make my way to the Rawlings’ house. When I floated the idea to Callie about staying with them, she didn’t respond, so I’m not sure they’ll welcome me with open arms after writing me a check for five grand.
However, thanks to Callie’s trust in me, I know the code for the side access door to the garage.
My phone’s alarm wakes me at five thirty Sunday morning, a reminder that I will wake at the ass crack of dawn, even on the weekends, until I figure out how to get a place of my own. I climb out of the Chevelle’s back seat. Then I bathe and brush my teeth in the dog wash. I stow my belongings behind neatly stacked containers labeled “Christmas garland” and head to my car before Rupert decides to play a round of real golf.
What do early risers do with themselves at this hour if not obligated to be at work?
Sleep.
I pull into the Walmart parking lot and catch another two hours of sleep. This time when my phone wakes me, it’s not my stupid alarm.
“Hey,” I answer June’s call. “Thought you preferred texting.”
“Did I wake you? You sound tired.”
“Nope. I’m actually at Walmart already.”
“Grocery shopping?”
I raise the back of my seat. “Uh, sure.” I clear the frog from my throat.
“Sure?”
“Well, it’s Walmart. You come for one thing and leave with ten. Hopefully, I make it out of here with a few groceries on my list.”
“Ha. I get that. Anyway, my parents called me late last night. They’re coming for a visit. I want you to meet them.”
Shit.
“No pressure,” she says. “It would be something simple like dinner. But if you’re not ready for that—”