Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
My gaze slices to Ford’s before he extends an arm as if to say after you.
Maybe he’s right and his father does have a girlfriend. I mean, he did mention over the phone that there was something he wanted to discuss with us. I assumed it was about the upcoming election.
I straighten my shoulders as we head down the echoing corridor until we reach the double story space. There’s a massive, stacked stone fireplace along with a sleek, cream-colored couch and matching navy armchairs upholstered in rich velvet.
As soon as Crawford catches a glimpse of us, he rises to his feet. There’s a wide smile on his face as if he’s bursting with excitement.
“We were just talking about the two of you,” he says in a jovial voice.
I force a smile as my gaze skitters to the woman sitting in one of the armchairs. From this angle, all I can see is long blonde hair that tumbles down her back in loose beachy waves.
I guess Ford was right after all.
There’s a new girlfriend.
My gaze slides over her, taking in the pink designer jumpsuit that clings to her curves and the pale blue Birken sitting on the end table.
It would appear that Crawford really does have a type.
When the woman finally swivels toward us, her blue-gray eyes lock on mine and I grind to an abrupt halt.
Pamela.
What the hell is she doing here?
My brows snap together at this unpleasant surprise. I would have preferred that it was some random woman rather than her.
“Mom?”
She tilts her head as husky laughter falls from her lips. “Who else would it be?”
That’s all it takes for a heavy stone to sink to the pit of my belly as I glance at Crawford, attempting to figure out what her sudden reappearance in his life means.
Hopefully, nothing.
As much as I try to crush the concern now blooming inside me like a weed, that’s impossible.
My gaze flickers to Crawford. His attention remains solely focused on Pamela. There’s a besotted look in his eyes. He loves to tell the story about how he walked into the restaurant, took one look at her, and fell head over heels in love. And I tend to believe it because two months after she waited on him, they were hitched. It was a crazy, whirlwind affair.
At the time, it had all seemed so romantic.
Almost like Cinderella when Prince Charming swooped in to save her.
Crawford gave her anything and everything she asked for.
Whatever her heart desired.
Hence the Birkin bag.
Along with the three others she owns.
They’re like her children. They actually have pet names she jokingly refers to them as. Although, I’m pretty sure the woman isn’t joking. If there were a choice between rescuing her expensive purses or me from a burning building, I’d be toast.
Literally.
“Aren’t you going to give me a hug? Or are you just going to stand there with your mouth gaping wide.” She makes a tsking sound with her tongue. “Most unattractive, Carina.”
I snap it shut and grit my teeth before forcing my feet into movement. She rises gracefully from the chair before extending her arms. I wrap mine loosely around her, wishing it didn’t feel so awkward. It’s like embracing a stranger.
She’s thinner than the last time I saw her.
Or she’s had work done.
Possibly both.
I’m sure Crawford would know since he foots the bill for everything. A mixture of shame and guilt pricks at me as that snide thought pops into my head. I’ve heard the ugly whispers that she married Crawford solely for his money and is nothing more than a gold digger.
She’s heard the ugly rumors, too.
Instead of being embarrassed when people talk loud enough for her to overhear, she’ll smile brightly and raise a crystal flute of champagne before bringing it to her lips and downing the bubbly contents.
It’s the reason I insisted on getting a part-time job at the dance studio when I was a junior in high school. When I went away to college, I quickly found another studio to work at near campus. Even though I barely make enough to buy groceries each week, it’s at least some small contribution.
No one can claim that I’m sponging off Crawford.
Deep down inside, I don’t want him to think that I’ve stuck around all these years in order to mooch off him. I’ve told him on more than one occasion that I’d be happy to take out loans for college, but he insists I use the fund he set up as soon as he married Mom.
Relief washes over me once I untangle myself from her and take a hasty step in retreat. A cloud of Christian Dior perfume clings to me.
Her gaze shifts to her ex-stepson and she ups the wattage of her smile. “Ford, you’re looking handsome as ever.”
He gives her a quick peck on the cheek before taking up sentinel beside me. I have no idea how he understands that I need his emotional support now more than ever.