Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Part of me is so disappointed that that's what it takes to make people—especially religious people–root for us. Fucking sucks. I don't know what to say about it. That's why when I think about the Netflix thing, I'm not sure I should even tell Sky. What the hell would I say on a TV show? Do your best, kids. Be the nice one that sits with newbies in the lunchroom. Try not to get killed by a hater.
But Luke could rock that shit. I know he could. Which means I should tell him. Anyway, I said I would. So I have to. That's where my mind is when I hang a right into our driveway. Click the button for the gate.
I bounce over the hump that's kind of like a mini curb-line, press the pedal nice and steady so Sky won’t wake up as we crest the little hill, and that's when I see—there's a car out front. Some kind of small sedan, and even weirder: It's got interior lights on.
I guess my hand tightens on reflex because I feel Sky's fingers stiffen. Then he's sitting up in his seat. He frowns, and I can see him notice the car in front of our house.
"V..." He rubs his eyes, sits up straighter. "Hey make a Uey, will ya? Let's turn around."
"What?"
"Do it now, please,” he says, his voice sleep-rough.
"You want me to turn around in the—"
"Yes, Rayne. I want you to turn the car around."
I suck a breath in, braking instead.
"I don't know that car, Rayne. I don't want to find out what kind of—" His frown deepens, and right about that time, I see a figure in the driveway waving. I realize it's Steven, and he's holding up his phone.
"Ahh. I had my phone on silent." Sky pulls his phone out as Steven keeps waving us forward. He sounds grumpy as he tells me, "Just keep on going. To the garage, please."
"Sure thing, baby. Chauffeur's got this."
He snorts softly, and I'm pretty sure he murmurs, "Like hell."
I snicker. "You don't think I've got it?"
"I don’t think you’re the chauffeur. Maybe to avoid appearances like some of that stuff on the internet, I should—" My eyes are on Sky's face as his eyes widen. "V...that's Carrie. You remember, from the—"
"Office." I nod as my stomach tightens. "She's the one that took the baby."
I park right behind her car, at Sky's direction. He's out first. I'm pretty sure that's not an accident. By the time I make it around the car's hood, he's standing close to Carrie. I see a baby car seat thing at her feet, and for some reason, my stomach flips.
As soon as I'm within a foot of them, Carrie stops talking.
Sky looks at me, and his face is carefully blank. "Vance, Carrie—she says—" He lets out a long breath, cupping a hand over his eyes so he's looking at me but Carrie can't see his face well. "The baby's mother claims you are the father. She says that's why she dropped the baby off at Evermore. And that if you don't take her—well, if we don't—she's going to tell the press."
Something hard and heavy droops into the bottom of my stomach, even as my heart starts racing out of my chest.
Sky’s eyes hold mine. “Want to step inside for a minute?”
"Why don't you?” Carrie says. “We'll just be waiting out here." Her face looks impressively neutral.
I open my mouth, wanting very much to say, "It's not my baby." But I look at Sky—always the picture of discretion—and I figure that he'd rather if we stepped inside the house, so I nod.
"That's fine." I look at Carrie, and the words just fly from my mouth: “I can’t handle more than this guy.”
She gives me a sort of surprised wide-eyed, not-quite-smile expression, and I arch a brow.
"Sorry," I tell Sky as soon as the door's shut behind us. "Didn't want to give off the impression that…it could be true. To her. To cut down on gossip."
He laughs, just a low rasp. He shakes his head. "That ship's boarding, Vanny. Pretty soon she's gonna pull out of the port and that's it." He blows a breath out, shaking his head again. "Just another thing we have to deal with."
"What the fuck?"
Luke runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it before his eyes pin mine again. "You sure it isn't...possible?"
I think of Maya, back in New York. She’d had both ovaries removed because of some kind of torsion thing where they both twisted. It was a big deal for her, and she had these little pinkish scars from where they did the laparoscopic surgeries. I don't even want to mention her name on our damn wedding night, so I just shake my head. "Yeah, McD. I'm positive the baby isn't mine."
"Why would someone do this?" Sky says. He looks down at his shoes. His shirt hangs untucked, the part that’s normally tucked in looking rumpled. For a second, he looks young, like a frat boy after a formal and not the mogul he is. Then his eyes are on mine. "I'm so sorry, Vanny."