Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
It was so boring.
So…
I looked up, and met the eyes of Easton.
His brother stood at his side, not staring at me, but at the goofy, gob-smacked look on Easton’s face the moment he saw me.
I’d decided to go non-traditional with my dress.
White was so boring.
What wasn’t was black.
My dress was a mess of midnight black tulle, lace, and fabric.
It was long, ball-gown-esque, and fit my growing breasts like they were a second skin.
I knew the moment his eyes traveled down the length of my body that he liked the dress.
When I finally reached him, his eyes were so heated that I knew I wouldn’t be making it to the reception without consummating our marriage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered today…”
Easton didn’t even wait for the officiant to finish his sentence before he was kissing me.
“Fuck, you’re hot,” he whispered when he was done making me breathless.
I tilted my head back just enough that I could see his face clearly. “You should probably watch your mouth while we’re in a church. As your almost-wife, I’m in charge of your soul now.”
He ran his knuckles down the length of my cheek and said, “Let’s get married.”
• • •
Four Years Later
“Row, row, row your boat, gently down…” I heard our toddler, Easton Jr, better known as EJ, sing. “Merrily, merrily, life is down the drain.”
I looked over at Easton and could feel the tears of laughter forming in my eyes.
“EJ.” Salem laughed. “Who taught you that song?”
“You did, Aunt Salem,” EJ replied. “On FaceTime. Remember?”
Salem was snickering as she said, “I’m pretty sure I never said, ‘Life is down the drain,’ though.”
“No,” EJ agreed. “I added that. It’s better that way. Makes more sense.”
Our son, EJ, was a literal genius, just like his father was.
He had an IQ score of infinity and did things that no normal three-year-old should be doing.
Like using a fucking 3D pen to make his own Army men. Which was what he was doing right now.
He was building a ‘fortress’ for them, too, according to my son who saw us walk in a few minutes later.
“Mommy!” he jumped up.
Salem graciously had offered to watch EJ so Easton and I could go out on a date.
We didn’t get many days like today, because EJ was a handful and would only go to a few people without causing too much of a fuss.
“Hey, buddy. Did you have fun with Aunt Salem?” I asked.
Over the years, Salem had been a permanent part of our life.
She’d become a lot more present. Though that had a lot to do with the man she was now married to, a drifter like her, that understood her need for wide-open spaces.
“I did,” EJ confirmed. “Though, she yelled at your mother.”
My brows rose and I looked to Salem for confirmation.
“She tried to come talk to us when we went out to dinner.” Salem grimaced. “I shut her down immediately. And my man blocked access to EJ until I could get him to the car and buckled in.”
“Jesus, can she not take a hint?” Easton asked.
Over the years, we’d run into my mother a lot. And she was always shut down.
She acted as if she hadn’t been a part of the most traumatic part of mine and Salem’s lives.
I had a feeling she’d never catch the hint.
“All right, buddy. You ready for bed?” I asked my son.
EJ sighed, his eyes rolling so far back into his head that all I saw were the whites.
“That’s ridiculous, but okay,” he grumbled, putting his 3D pen down. “But I fully expect you not to complain when I’m up by seven tomorrow morning.”
“Three going on forty,” Easton grumbled as he walked up to our son and kissed him. “Go. Get your teeth brushed.”
I felt my heart pitter-patter at seeing the two of them together.
“Yes, sir.” EJ sighed, but his parting shot had all of us laughing. Quietly, so we didn’t encourage him. “Fuckin’ bullshit.”
“He’s all you, sis.” Salem’s eyes were lit with happiness.
I walked to her and threw my arms around her. “How are you?”
Her eyes were excited as she said, “I couldn’t wait to get down here upon hearing the news. It seriously made my freakin’ week.”
The news she was talking about was Sareen’s stroke she’d suffered in prison.
No one knew how or why, but I couldn’t say that the news hadn’t made me feel vindicated upon hearing it.
Sareen had copped a deal.
A life in prison, after confessing everything, for not spending another day in the torture chamber that she’d willingly walked right into.
It’d been a long road to get her there, having not been able to control her words had been a definite pain in the ass, but in the end, it’d worked out okay.
Especially upon hearing that she’d had a stroke and could possibly be a vegetable for the rest of her life.