Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Each word was a balm on my very soul.
Music began to play and Connor’s time was up. He quickly added, “I also want to thank Left Turn, the sickest band in the world, Tombstone Records and all our fans. Micah, I love you, man.” He moved away from the podium but shot back to the microphone and stated, “Wife for life, yo!”
As he walked away, he looked back and shouted, “I love you, Emmy!”
Lost in the moment, I stood and called back, “I love you too, baby!”
He blew me a kiss and then he was gone, disappearing behind the curtain.
I didn’t care that we’d be on the news with our open exhibition. I freaking adored that man and I wanted everybody to know that he meant the world to me.
Sitting, I took in a shaky breath as though it just hit me.
Connor Clash was mine, heart and soul.
How strange that the final piece of the puzzle that completed me was jagged and rough, and something I never even knew I wanted.
Later that evening, Connor and I were cornered by a bunch of correspondents as we left and when one of the reporters asked, “Connor, you seem very much in love. What is it about Emily that you admire?”
With his arm around my waist, Connor thought about it, speaking seriously. “There’s too many things to name.” He waved an arm out to me, “I mean, look at her. She’s gorgeous. But I think the best thing about Emmy is that when I’m really good,” he leant in and winked at the journalist, “she lets me see her naked.”
My gut dipped and I fought a laugh. My cheeks flushed pink and I bit my lip, rubbing my brow in an attempt to avoid the cameras.
Connor walked us away and when we got out of hearing distance, I spoke through gritted teeth. “You’re dead.”
“Naw,” he drawled, stopping to look down at me. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulled me close. His words were softly spoken. “I’ve never felt more alive.”
It was all I ever wanted for him.
My love for this man knew no bounds.
We kissed in the darkness of the shadows and my only thought was how I was going to tell him we were expecting without freaking him out.
As we left the theatre, people screamed for our attention. Hand-in-hand, we walked down the strip towards our waiting limousine, a familiar voice carried over the din. Connor seemed to have heard it at the very same time I had and when we both turned to look, there she was.
Becky Amour, calling out to us as if we were old friends.
So, when Connor pulled me over in that direction, I didn’t let myself show any emotion whatsoever. Amber would have been proud of my resting bitch face.
I watched Connor sign album covers, t-shirts and take selfies for a full minute, and when Becky watched everyone around her get their items signed, I could see she got what was happening. Connor began to walk away and she called out to him.
In a move that will forever be burned into my brain, my husband turned to her and said loud enough for all to hear, “I’m sorry, I don’t have any spare change.”
In awe, I kept my tender eyes on him as he led me to the limo.
Maybe it was petty but I couldn’t help myself. I laughed the entire way home.
Two days later, the perfect opportunity presented itself.
“Can you believe this shit?” Connor slapped down the magazine on the island between us.
I picked it up and studied it. The headline read, “Pink, Blue, or Violet? Is The Violet Dame pregnant?”
My heart stuttered.
I mean, sure, it wasn’t the first time they’d speculated about my being pregnant. Every other time, they had been wrong, of course.
Connor was pissed. I heard the fridge door slam then returned with a bottle of water. “They said you looked poofy.” He opened the bottle and sipped from it. “You’re not poofy. You’re perfect.”
My eyes crinkled in the corners. God forbid anybody speak ill of The Violet Dame. “And what if I was poofy?”
“But you’re not,” Connor replied emphatically.
Okay then. This was going to be harder than I thought.
“But, what if, just as an example, I did get poofy?” He looked at me. “Around the middle.” I used my arms to indicate a giant belly. “Like this.”
Connor’s face screwed up and he took the three steps over to me. He put a cold hand to my forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”
Ugh.
“Actually, I’m a little warm,” I hinted, fluttering my lashes at my sweet but clueless husband. “Comes part and parcel with my condition.”
Suddenly, Connor’s face turned lusty. “Oh yeah? Now that you mention it, I’m a little warm too.” He took my hand and placed it on his semi-hard cock. “Especially here.”