Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“Took you?” I question, eyes widening.
“Yep, right from that club of Jake’s. My ex-husband—may his lying, cheating ass rest in peace—gave me to him like a piece of meat.” I flinch at her words, but she brushes it off. “He’s a good man. To me, at least.” She smiles fondly. “My husband is rough around the edges but he’s good.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“Please don’t be afraid. I just wanted you to know that I get the scared part, but we are all good. I swear.”
I want to believe her, but I’m not sure how to. I guess the same could be said for Jake. In other people’s books, he may be considered downright awful, but in mine, he isn’t.
“Can I ask you what your plans are for today?” Sailor asks.
“I have a house I need to sell.”
Sailor claps her hands.
“Oh, what house? I used to be a real estate agent.”
“Really,” I reply as we take a seat. I grab my phone and pull up the photographs of the house and show them to Sailor.
“Is that in The Hamptons?” she asks, and I reply, “Yes.”
“Sold. I want it.”
Did she seriously just offer to buy my house? To say I’m surprised would be an understatement.
“I’ll give you above the asking price.” She sips on her coffee like she just offered to buy my old used purse instead.
“Do you not want to talk to your husband about that first?” I ask.
“No. Good Lord, no. Sometimes he has more money than sense. I’ll buy it and surprise him.”
“And he’ll be okay with that?”
“Who cares? I’ll give him sex, and he will forgive me. Or I’ll show him my boobs and get the same result. Either way works.” She shrugs, and I huff out a laugh. I guess she knows how to get what she wants.
Her phone starts ringing, and she excuses herself to answer it. I drink my tea and wonder if she is being serious.
Did she just buy my house over tea?
“Adora needs my help at her store, so I have to run. But please call me. I do want that house. I’m not joking.” She passes me her phone. “Add your number so I can call you later.”
So I add my number and hand the phone back, then she waves as she strolls out the door.
I get my phone out and message Jake.
* * *
Me: Did I tell you the divorce papers are signed and sent?
* * *
I wait for a response but get nothing.
When I arrive home, I find Jake waiting for me. He’s sitting on the step, his face propped on his hands, with a far-off expression on his face.
“Divorce? Hey…” When he finally notices me and raises his head, I can see the strain in his dark gray eyes, but there’s something else there too.
Something painful, almost.
I sit next to him and put my bag to the side as I reach out and touch his leg. “Yep…” I pause, searching his face. “Are you okay?”
“Do you want to marry me?” he asks.
I’m so taken aback by his question that I snatch my hand away and immediately raise it to my hair.
He grips it, stopping me. “You do that when you’re nervous. Am I making you nervous?” Jake asks, sliding his hand into mine and lacing our fingers together.
“Tell me what’s really bothering you,” I say, ignoring his question about marriage.
He sighs, then says, “My mother showed up.”
“And that’s a problem because?” I ask, confused. He doesn’t really tell me personal things so I am in the dark right now.
“Because she is no longer in prison for the murder of my stepfather, and she is asking for a relationship with me.”
“She killed him?” I thought Jake said he killed him.
“No, I did.” He doesn’t let go of my hand when I try to pull away, just holds it tighter.
“The therapist suggested I share more with you. Would you like to go to my place?”
Therapist? He’s seeing a therapist to be better, for me?
“Umm…” I don’t know what to say. I mean, a part of me wants to go with him, but the other part is shocked.
I wanted this, didn’t I? For Jake to share more of himself with me.
It’s a big thing for him, and he’s shared before that no one really knows him. But he keeps on giving me tiny snippets of him, and I take them willingly.
“I invited her for dinner tomorrow night. I would like it if you would attend,” he states.
“Tomorrow works fine,” I reply. At least then, it gives me time to think more.
“Divorced,” he says like he can’t believe it. “I’m going to marry you one day soon.” He beams at me as he stands. “I’m not sure of many things, but of that, I am positive.”
“Marry me?” I choke out, wondering why that doesn’t scare me more after just ending one disastrous marriage.