Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
I was so fucking dumb. If this was going to work, I couldn’t cut him out. I had to do the opposite; I had to be more honest with him.
Could I trust him, though?
“You’re staying in the guest room tonight,” West told me quietly. “Go wash up, and I will talk to the kid. What’s his name? He can stay in the studio above the garage.”
I had no strength to argue, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to anyway. It was too late, I was too tired, and we all needed sleep.
“Colby,” I said, sniffling. “He’s a good kid. Just…rough around the edges like me.”
“I know how to deal with that kind of person.” He gave me one more squeeze before easing off, and I wiped at my face. I was such a loser.
I coughed and watched West retreat to the kitchen, and I took a few steps closer.
He grabbed a couple sodas from the fridge, then a bag of chips and a packet of cookies from a cabinet.
“I should come with you,” I said.
“Not when you look like that.”
Ouch. Thanks.
“I’ll ask him if he wants you to check in on him in an hour, but chances are he’ll be asleep,” he said with finality. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Okay, I’ll go make myself less ugly,” I mumbled. I handed him my car keys as he passed me.
West rolled his eyes and walked out.
I sniffled and wiped at my cheeks again, and as nice as it felt not having to show my roadkill face to Colby right now, I felt too exposed. West might dig for details or answers I couldn’t give him, so I hurried into the living room and the window farthest away.
I opened it a few inches, knowing I could hear what was going on in the driveway. Unfortunately, it was the wrong angle to see anything, but—
“You must be Colby,” I heard West say. Listening in would have to do. “I’m West, Alfie’s ex-husband. Our daughter woke up and required a very late bedtime story, and he couldn’t say no.”
“Oh. No problem. I can wait.”
“Actually, we agreed it’s best you both stay the night,” West responded. “I have a guest studio above the garage you’re welcome to use. And snacks.”
“Um, okay. Yeah, sure.”
It didn’t sit entirely right with me to banish a kid to the garage apartment, but on the other hand, I’d helped decorate it. Colby would probably like it up there. The studio had a fully stocked kitchenette, private bathroom, big flat-screen, a nice bed, and an AC unit worth more than the whole motel he’d stayed at with his brother.
It would be good for one night, if nothing else.
“But the boss is okay?” Colby asked. His voice was almost drowned out by the garage door opening. “He kinda saved my life tonight, so I owe him.”
I made a face, hoping he didn’t say more.
“Did he?” West asked. Fuck. Don’t fucking go there, buddy. “How did he do that?”
“You sneaky bastard,” I whispered.
Fuck my life. They were too far away for me to hear Colby’s response. It came out as incoherent mumbling before the sound was too faint. But he knew how to keep his mouth shut, right? If Tony hadn’t given him the business, JJ must’ve.
I closed the window again and headed to the bathroom.
You’re staying in the guest room tonight.
I blew out a breath.
A guest in the house that’d once been mine. Yet, never truly mine. I’d felt like an impostor in this neighborhood. The house too. No matter how hard I’d tried by including some items that’d ended up looking out of place here.
After taking a leak, I washed my hands and my face, and the cold water felt good on my skin. My nose wasn’t so stuffy anymore.
The bathroom hadn’t changed since I’d lived here. In fact, nothing had. The living room was the homiest area in the house. I liked the dark, warm colors and the comfortable couches and chairs. It had a fireplace too, and we’d put the Christmas tree near it…
I shook my head to myself and toweled off.
I had to stop going down memory lane.
My reflection in the mirror stared back at me, and I brushed my fingertips over the redness under my eyes.
I looked like a sorry sack of shit.
As I left the bathroom, it didn’t feel right to park my ass on the couch, so I went into the kitchen instead to wait for West.
I sat down at the table and glanced it over. Was it new? I couldn’t be sure, but I didn’t remember ours being so glossy. This wood seemed slightly darker too.
Most of the time, we’d eaten at the dining room table in the living room. It was how West had grown up. He’d looked at me funny when I’d automatically set the kitchen table, and he’d said something like, “We’re not in LA anymore, baby. We have a dining area now.”