Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“Weeks? You’ve been back for weeks?” How did I not know that?
At long last, there’s a hint of discomfort on his face, but it doesn’t come through in his voice. “Yes, thank god, or I wouldn’t have been at that poker game last night, and your dad’s company wouldn’t be a thing this morning because two men got emotional again and let their not-so-better judgment prevail.”
“I hate you, Apollo.”
“So you’ve said. Will you have me as your dearly beloved, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, anyway?”
“It will all be for worse.” Snapping turtle me is coming out to play now. “What other choice do I have? I’m sacrificing myself for my family or my dad’s company and I guess you’re right about one thing. This feud has gone on long enough. It’s ridiculous, and it has to stop. If this is the way to get them to see reason and save my dad’s company and all the people who work for him and all their work and research, then how can I say no?”
“So, you accept?’
“I accept your proposal and your bloody money. That’s it. But I don’t accept you. I will never accept you.”
“Okay.”
“You’re not a part of my life anymore. And you’re never going to be a part of my life again in anything but the most rudimentary way.”
“Alright.”
“I’m bringing more than a bag with me. I’m bringing my whole stash of creepy dolls and all my creepy doll-making supplies.”
“Absolutely. I’ll make room and uh…order up some kind of exorcism if I have to.”
“Stop agreeing with me.”
“I’m sorry. Do you want me to fight with you?”
“No!” I’m pretty sure fighting shows that you care about something.
“I want to prove to you that I’m still that boy you trusted. I’m still that boy, and the promise I made to take care of you still stands.”
Ugh, why did he ever make that promise? Why does he think he can come back now and make good on it when it’s clearly never going to be made good on again? It’s beyond the point of making good.
Also, what choice do I have? None. I have no choice. Zero. This is bigger than me. It’s bigger than both of us. It’s not just for my dad’s company or all his employees. I have to admit the idea of our dads finally working it out and going back to being best friends is somewhat appealing to my soft, squishy side that seems to dominate my entire life. Whatever. It’s okay to feel that way about the parent who raised me. The one who got me through everything, including my awkward teenage years, first bras, sex talks, tampons, barfy nights, mall visits, learning how to drive, and everything else in my life.
I will never let the soft, squishy part of me dominate in any area where Apollo is concerned. For him, he only gets stick-in-the-bum me.
“Whatever. If we’re doing this, let’s just get it done and over with. The thought is so nauseating that I might barf all over whoever has the misfortune of marrying us.” That doesn’t come out quite as mean as I want it to. I don’t have very much practice at being a jerk. I can probably learn something from Apollo in that area.
He winks at me. “In that case, I’ll be sure to bring a bucket.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
“I know that too. Probably the king of them, in your mind.”
“No. Not the king. The god.”
“The god,” he agrees too easily. “Oh, and one other thing, Patience. One tiny detail I left out that I think you should know. You’ll be living with me. I built the most amazing, incredible, unique house, and I know you’re going to love it.”
No. Just straight up all the no’s. He didn’t. He did not build our ultimate fort. The fairy style, retro, best ever, childhood wishful-thinking house. He. Did. Not.
He reads my mind. “I did.” A nod. And that stupid, sexy grin that makes my heart pulse. In revulsion, obviously. “I live in a mushroom house.”
CHAPTER 3
Apollo
I really do live in a mushroom house. That wasn’t just fancy talk or me waxing metaphorical. When the money started rolling in, and my investments paid off big time, I did the wise thing and invested again. And when that paid off, I invested again. The cycle went on and on. Blah, blah, blah. When I finally had more money than I knew what to do with—well, I guess I haven’t reached that point yet because I’ve always found something to do with it—but when I had more than enough money, I paid an architect to make my childhood dream house come true.
Mine and Patience’s dream house.
It’s in the middle of my own private forest just outside Seattle. Why Seattle? Because the weather is good. It never gets too hot or too cold. It has a good forest, and the mountains in the background are a huge plus. I’m an hour away from the city, which means I’m nicely isolated and hard to find since the woods hide me fairly well, but also close enough that I can easily drive to the city whenever I want.