Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 115885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“I don’t care what vehicle. You can send a freaking donkey, and I’ll ride it out of here.” Pause. “Yes, sir, I know that’s not the business you’re in. My point is, I just need to get the hell away from this place as soon as possible. Please. Honk when you arrive.”
She lets the phone drop to her hand and kills the call. She mumbles something incoherent about calling her mother and punches the screen when I clear my throat.
“Are we going on a honeymoon?” I ask, unloading my hands on the breakfast nook in front of her.
Stay cool. There might be a logical reason for her packing.
She looks up and scowls, like she wasn’t expecting me. Then she takes a step back, as if I’m going to strike her.
“You scared me.” She tugs the scarf out of her purse and throws it over her shoulders, getting ready to leave.
“Right now, I could say the same about you,” I hiss through gritted teeth, doing everything in my power not to launch at her.
I’m not stupid. I knew from the get-go this had a very low percent chance of ever working out.
Still.
Still.
You fall in love with a girl named after two Disney princesses, and you believe in the unbelievable, because…well, Disney and shit.
She folds her arms over her chest.
Uh-huh. This can only mean pissed-off Rory, and that can only mean run for shelter.
“What’s going on?” I round the nook toward her, but she raises one hand to stop me.
“I ran across someone interesting today.”
“You did?” I play along.
She nods.
I say nothing, because I have a bad feeling, and there’s something clogging my throat, probably the amount of confessions I should have spat out to her a long time ago.
She takes a step toward me. “Someone you know very well. A little girl called Tamsin. Ring a bell?”
My mouth goes dry. What can I say to this? That I refused to talk to her about Tamsin because I didn’t think I’d fall in love with her again? That I hadn’t realized I never fell out of love with her in the first place?
That at first, I was simply protecting my daughter from her and Richards and their urban, heathen lifestyle by sending her off to live with her grandparents while I worked on this project—oh, and also on ruining her life?
That the secret, locked room actually belongs to Tam, and it’s beautiful, and so is she, and the house is normally on point, because I raise her alone, just the two of us? That I was mad that she got near it because I was so protective of Tam, even when she wasn’t physically in the room? That I messed up the house in advance to make her experience crappy, leaving Tamsin’s pristine room untouched.
That by the time I realized she could be mine, it was too late? The lie had grown too big, too threatening, and I was running like a headless chicken between my lover and my daughter?
Does she even want to listen?
“Cute kid, by the way.” Rory shrugs, making a show of looking like she doesn’t care. “Then I was informed by your mother-in-law that I am a monster.”
She is a hurricane, and I’m pushing against the storm when I stride toward her, wanting to explain myself, but she shoves me away and stalks toward the door. I jump in front of her and block her way, plastering my back to the closed door.
“Let me explain.”
She throws her head back and laughs, not an ounce of humor in her voice. “What’s to explain? That you’re a liar? That you’re a fraud? That you’re a shitty dad for sending your daughter to live with relatives while you screw your new wife, living the perfect double life?”
When she puts it like that, it does seem impossible to find justification for the clusterfuck I’ve created with my own hands (and cock). But it’s not that simple. I know this well, because I walked into this thing demanding revenge, but I never planned to take it this far.
Honestly, I thought Rory would be long gone. I expected her to quit.
“Rory…”
A car honks outside our door. Rory throws up her arms with faux delight.
“That’s my carriage, as you like to charmingly put it. I’ll see that our equally enchanting divorce papers hit your mail in a timely manner. Hey, Mal, remember our conversation about epic romance movies?”
I glower.
She is making fun of the breakdown of our marriage. No matter the fact that I was stupid enough to cause it, and she is clearly pissed off, I’m still finding it difficult to watch her shitting all over what we have.
Rory doesn’t wait for me to answer, making a show of bypassing me and throwing the door open. She stands on the threshold as she delivers her last line.