Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
I almost challenge how she’s phrased it as if she thinks he’s only doing this for the baby. He’s told me countless times he knew he needed me the first time he saw me, the same way I felt when I saw him. She doesn’t mean it like that. “I’m sure,” I tell her. “One hundred percent.”
Mom pulls me into another hug, stroking her hands through my hair. I can feel her heart beating heavily.
“You’re going to be a grandmom,” I say. I hear a croak in her breath as she lets out a long shudder. She’s almost crying.
“Don’t,” she whispers as if she can’t handle the joy.
“A grandmom,” I say again, leaning back and taking her hands, looking into her eyes, shiny with tears. “And we want lots of kids, Mom.”
Tears streak down her cheeks now. She squeezes my hands tightly. “Of course, I want that. Who wouldn’t want all that love? But I have to think about you, Emma. Are you sure? Beyond a shadow of a doubt? You know he wants you? And you know you love him?”
“Yes, Mom,” I say, and now I’m crying again too. “Yes.”
We collapse into a hug. I hold her tightly, knowing she will make the best grandmother, knowing my and Logan’s baby will never have to want for love.
After a minute or so, the door whines open behind us. Eric walks in, awkwardly scratching his head. “Uh, are you two okay?”
Mom laughs, and it’s a wonderful sound to hear. My heart could sprout wings and fly right out of my chest! It’s melodramatic as heck, but I don’t care. All those times I imagined Mom learning the truth, I never dreamed of this. It doesn’t mean Dad will be okay with it, though. My belly twists at the thought. I can’t forget about the last hurdle.
“Are you here to ensure we’re not tearing each other’s hair out, Eric?” Mom says.
Eric grins, flashing me a look. It’s almost like he’s saying, See, aren’t you glad I snooped?
Then Mom stands up, folds her arms, and his grin goes on hiatus. “How did you find out she was pregnant, Eric?” Mom asks, using her detective-like tone when there’s a mystery in the house.
“Uh…”
“Eric,” Mom says firmly.
“I was reading Emma’s texts,” he says, dropping his head. “I know it’s wrong.”
“If you know,” Mom snaps, “you shouldn’t have done it.”
Eric nods, that achingly guilty look on his face. I find it difficult to be mad at him. Every time I look at him, I see my future baby, maybe with the same emotion in their eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. I feel terrible. Honest. Sometimes, I don’t think.”
“You just wait until your father gets home,” Mom says, her favorite phrase, but then she shakes her head slowly. She looks at me, all the happiness drained from her face. “I didn’t even think. Emma, we have to tell him.”
I swallow, my neck burning like acid is working its way through me, trying to make it impossible to speak. That’s more fantasy wordplay, yet another wannabe escape. I have to face the music. I have to do the right thing. “When will he be home?” I ask.
“After his meeting,” Eric says. “That’s what he told me.”
“Okay.” I nod and stand. “I’m… I’m going to call Logan. Let him know, just in case Dad wants to talk to him. I want him to be ready.”
I walk into the hallway and take out my phone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Logan
As we walk into Michael’s office, I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I wonder if it’s my woman, my Emma. My heart aches as if telling me to go be with her. She’s so close, but I have to handle this first.
“Uh… coffee, gentleman?” Michael says, addressing me and the two criminals. I walk slightly ahead of them. My senses are alert in case they try anything. Neither of them recognized me. If this were farther north, I’d be screwed.
“Sure, double espresso,” the big man says. He’s even taller than me, burly as an enforcer. He’s got a flat nose, wears a black tank, and is covered in tattoos. The other is older and leathery-faced. He wears a cowboy hat indoors and chews a toothpick like we’re supposed to be impressed.
I almost snap at Michael when he walks to the small coffee machine in the corner of his office. I know he’s nervous. When my guys arrived and we briefed him, his face paled, but offering these assholes coffee?
“Don’t worry about it, Michel,” I say. “He’s not thirsty.”
“I’m not?” Leon says, the big man. I can’t remember if he’s pretending to be Tony or Luigi. What a weak scam. Poor Michael. He’s had a good life. He had a tragedy in his youth but a loving family. It made him too soft. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s a good person.