Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
She rolled her eyes, but even that seemed to hurt.
“You know, you’re funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.”
She took the painkillers, one at a time. She always struggled to swallow the tablets. Even though she ate more in a spoonful of pasta, she always felt like she was going to choke. She never did, but it meant taking them one at a time. She knew that was lame. Her brother had often teased her about it.
“What happened?” she asked, cutting off thoughts of her brother and her family.
“Tequila and lime, I do believe.”
“What?”
“Your drink of choice last night.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t even like tequila.”
“Last night, before I arrived, you’d had four glasses.”
“Ugh,” she said.
“Exactly, and now you’re suffering the aftereffects.”
“I don’t remember much of last night.” She glanced down at herself and saw she wore one of his old shirts.
“Even though you threw yourself at me, begging for me to fuck you, I stopped myself.”
She gasped. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. You said if I didn’t want to kill you, that must mean I wanted to fuck you, and I’m not going to lie, you’re right. I do want to fuck you, but—and this is a big but—I like my woman to be alive.”
Chloe groaned, pressing her hands to her face. This couldn’t get any more mortifying.
“So, after you threw yourself at me, I made sure you were over the toilet when the vomiting started, and I even brushed your teeth for you.”
She couldn’t remember any of this.
“Why would you do that?”
“In sickness and in health, I do believe the line is.”
“Come on, Roman, you don’t have to pretend.”
“I’m not the one pretending anything, babe. I took care of you last night and I’m taking care of you this morning.” He got to his feet and then pointed at the juice in her hand. “Drink that and I’ll be back in a minute.”
Chloe sipped at the drink. The juice was nice, not too sweet and not too tart. Her head was still pounding, but she felt the juice had stopped her from throwing up.
Why would she drink tequila? She hadn’t drunk that stuff in years, when her parents had to clean up the mess. There was one time, with her brother, where they had gotten a bottle of tequila and drank it while their parents were out at a party. They had their own pizza and tequila party inside the house. That night had ended with a severe headache, sickness, scolding, and being sent to school as punishment. Her brother had been a year older than her, so he had to go to work. He’d been back home from college when they had experimented with the tequila.
She had never felt so embarrassed in her life when she had to have her mother drop her off at school. As per Mrs. Baker’s usual style when she did something naughty, there was humiliation, as she promised to pick up her little baby girl in the afternoon. Even going so far as blowing her kisses and expressing her love. The whole day people had mocked her, but she didn’t care.
Even as she hated her mother for doing it, she knew she did it out of love. Chloe knew she would have another thousand days, one after the other of humiliation, just to hug her mother again. To tell her that she loved her.
No one and nothing ever prepared you for the death of a loved one. For Chloe, she had lost three people all in one night.
Finishing the juice, she refused to stay in bed.
She couldn’t quite handle the memories and wanted them all gone. She attempted to rush into the bathroom, but it was more of a slow walk. She chanced a look at her reflection, and it was in these moments she was thankful she didn’t have any makeup on. Her face looked pale.
She brushed her teeth, splashed some fresh water onto her face, and then glided a brush through her hair. Pulling the length back, she clipped it in place, and looked a little better than the dead. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the bathroom, back into the bedroom, and opted out of getting changed. Her head could only handle so much responsibility right now.
She made her way into the kitchen to find Roman at the stove, which was a huge surprise.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Cooking you some bacon and eggs, as well as toast. The eggs are scrambled. I didn’t think you could handle a fried egg.”
She pressed a hand to her stomach. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”
“I know my way around a hangover. Painkillers, juice, and a hearty breakfast.”
He was acting normal again. Not the Bratva husband she knew him to be.
“If you don’t want it in bed, then go take a seat at the table. I’ll have coffee for you as well.”