Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
AJ was my father’s nickname, short for Andrew Jagger. Neither of us used our given name—I was always Drew, and he was always AJ. “Not good. It’s spread to a lung now. Looks like they’re going to have to remove a piece.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry, friend. AJ’s too damn young for this shit.”
Four months ago my father had gone to the doctor for an annual physical and his blood work revealed his liver enzymes were off. Two days later he was diagnosed with liver cancer. Even though the statistics weren’t on his side—a fifteen percent five-year survival rate from diagnosis—he was optimistic. He’d endured months of high-dose chemo that made him sick as a dog, only to be told the day after he finished the last round that the cancer had metastasized to his lung.
“Yeah. I’m glad I could be here for him. He’s got a shitload of friends and business associates, but without a wife taking care of him, I needed to be back in New York.”
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back.”
“I think that was Alexa’s plan.”
I’d always intended to come back to New York to work with my father in his practice. After I passed the bar, Alexa had begged me to stay in Atlanta one more year. It meant having to take a second bar exam, but I was trying to make her happy while she was adjusting to motherhood. So we agreed to stay in Atlanta for one year. One turned into two, and until my dad got sick, I think it was Alexa’s plan to keep asking for one more year.
“She’s adjusting. She likes the shopping and has decided to take some acting classes. Apparently that’s something she’s always wanted to do, but never mentioned until she signed up for the first class.” I shrugged. “Whatever, it keeps her happy.”
Roman looked at me. “What about you? She keep you happy?”
“She’s a good mother.”
“So is my mother. But that doesn’t mean I want to fuck her and spend the rest of my life hanging out with her.”
“You have a unique way of looking at shit.”
“I’m banging a yoga instructor; she’s into all that introspective crap.”
“I’m sure that’s why you’re with her. Not because she can lift her leg over her own shoulder.”
“The only time she shuts the hell up and stops trying to enlighten me with useless wisdom is when I have her legs over her shoulders. My dick acts like a stopper in a bathtub full of wisdom quotes.”
I chuckled and stood, smacking my friend on the back. “Come on, let’s go back to the party. I’m freezing my balls off, and I want to check on Beck. It’s getting pretty loud in there.”
Navigating through the growing party, I made my way to my little boy’s room. So damn sweet—he even smiled in his sleep. Okay, so maybe it was a twitch, but his mouth relaxed and then jumped to a grin every few seconds. He must have been dreaming about his racecars and grapes, his two favorite things the last few months. I pulled the cover up to his chin and ran my fingers over his soft cheeks. God, I’d never dreamed I could love anyone in the world so much. My heart clenched in my chest momentarily as I wondered if my own father had looked at me the same way twenty-some-odd years ago. I needed my dad to get better. I wanted him to get to know my son and guide me to be the kind of father he was to me.
I wasn’t a religious guy—the last time I’d been in church was my shotgun wedding to Alexa. And before that, probably a funeral. But a small cross hung over my son’s crib. I looked at it every day, but never really saw it as more than a decoration.
It couldn’t hurt to try.
Standing beside Beck’s crib, I said a small prayer for God to watch over my father and my son.
We’d been back in New York for four months, and that cross had hung on the wall next to his crib the entire time. But when I opened the door to go back to the party, the thing fell to the ground.
I hoped that wasn’t a sign.
Chapter 20
Emerie
My head felt like I’d been run over by a car full of pissed-off AA members. I was so thirsty, my mouth had been overtaken by a desert, yet every sip of water made me queasy. Jesus. No wonder I don’t drink very often.
The only good thing about this hangover was that I was so busy feeling like crap, I didn’t have the capacity to think about last night.
Drew.
That kiss.
That kiss.
Baldwin.
Holding my breath, I walked into the office even later than my normal late. I didn’t have a session until the afternoon, but I was behind on typing my notes into patient files.