Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Marry you?” I ask him, shaking my head. Laughing like I might throw up. “Why would you want me to marry you? You’re joking, right? Trying to make the whole investment thing look totally reasonable? There’s no way I’d ever marry you.”
“I’ve been looking for a purpose to fulfill me, my something, and maybe you’re exactly what my life’s missing. The donut shop was always my attempt at getting close to you. Why not cut out the bullshit and go straight to the point? I will marry you, my something. I will make you mine. Besides, it’s past time I settled down with a wife and began to build a family.”
“A family?” I can barely believe what he’s saying. I’m choking my words out. “This is insane. You want me to marry you? Nolan, listen to yourself.”
“I know it sounds crazy.” He comes toward me, walking slow. I keep backing up, ready to run. “But my days are empty without a reason to fill them. A wife, some children, that will provide stability, it will provide meaning, and you are the perfect woman.”
I laugh again, unable to help myself. This is so obscene, so out of control.
I can’t believe he’s actually saying this stupid stuff, but even worse, I can’t believe he’s looking at me like he means it.
“I am not going to marry you,” I say, raising my hands.
That stops him. “You will.”
“No, Nolan, listen to me.” I get control of myself, shoving the nervous, terrified laughter back down into my throat. “I am never, ever going to marry you, no matter what you do. Kick me out, keep our security deposit and the rent we paid, I don’t care. Ruin my dreams if that’s what you want to do. But I will never, ever marry you. I can’t be bought. I’m not for sale.”
Silence descends. He stands there, looking as if he can barely comprehend what I’m saying. My hands are trembling, my knees are weak. I picture myself as his wife, living in this sanitized house, this beautiful, empty home, surrounded by lovely, meaningless things. No wonder he needs purpose.
But that’s not me.
My stomach twists as I turn away.
“I’ll give you a few days to reconsider,” he calls as I hurry to the door. “I can take care of you, Keely. I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”
I push my way outside, head pounding. I hurry down the sidewalk, not really seeing where I’m going, clutching my bag like a flotation device. I’m hyperventilating, on the edge of a panic attack. I stop a block away, leaning up against a skinny tree trunk, gasping for air.
Nolan’s insane. He is an absolute crazy person. His mind is broken if he thinks I’d ever marry him.
A sob rips from my throat.
Because the sick part of all this is, I’m almost tempted to accept.
Marrying him will make my life so much easier.
Especially considering how hard it’s going to be in only a few short months.
I’m not the crying-in-public type. I hate myself for it. But I can’t stop as tears flow down my face, and luckily, there’s nobody coming past. I reach into my bag and find the little plastic baggie I kept hidden at the bottom, gripping the real reason I came to see Nolan tonight.
I planned on telling him the truth.
That’s the real reason I came here tonight.
But then he started teasing me, pushing my buttons, and by the time I was ready to blurt it out, he said that deranged stuff about marrying him.
Now, I don’t know how I’ll ever tell him.
Because I can give him what he wants. I can give him everything, and a lot sooner than he realizes.
I stare down at the plastic baggie filled with two positive pregnancy tests.
When he finds out about his baby growing inside of me, he’s never going to leave me alone.
Chapter 9
Keely
I meet Jams later that night at Bottle of Smoke. Now that we’re working on the whole donut thing, we technically don’t have jobs here anymore.
But it’s still home. The decor changed slightly since Ash came into boatloads of money, but Smoke is the same old dive it’s been since the day she hired me a few years back. Lots of wood, fading wallpaper, ancient photographs of random Boston landmarks, scattered Irish-themed memorabilia. There’s a decent crowd, half of them made men and soldiers in the Crowley family. I wonder how many know about Nolan blackmailing me.
Jams drinks wine while I sip on a seltzer. Bernie’s behind the bar, constantly tucking her short hair back behind her ear as she rushes around taking orders. Fulco’s in the back, cooking and shouting at nobody like a madman. Ash is taking orders, filling in for me and Jams until she finds another couple waitresses.
“You sure you don’t need help?” I ask Bernie as she comes over to check on us.