Made For Us (Made For #3) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Made For Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
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“Hello,” she answers, and I can hear cars honking in the distance.

“Hey, Roxanne,” I greet, “it’s Tristan. Sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I was wondering if you were free?”

“I’m in New York,” she replies, and I close my eyes, remembering she went to visit her sister for the weekend and will be back on Tuesday.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologize, sitting on the couch. “I totally forgot.” I put my head back. “Have a great trip, and I’ll see you when you get back.”

I hang up the phone and close my eyes. Besides Roxanne, I don’t have another sitter, only because, if I’m not traveling, I’m home with her. I lost two years with her, so I promised her she would never be without me unless I was working. I think about maybe calling Xavier and Vivienne, but then I’d feel like a dick for lying to them.

I close my eyes when the pounding starts in my head as I pull up my calendar and start counting down again to make sure I didn’t fuck up, and each and every time, it lands on fifteen weeks.

Penelope comes back down and over to the couch, sitting with me. “Ready?” she asks as she grabs the remote and lies down on her side. “I love this movie.”

I take my phone and put it on my stomach, waiting for it to ring, knowing that if it doesn’t ring by the time Penelope goes to bed, I’ll be making my own call. It’s time for a one-on-one that has been a long time coming.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ABIGAIL

I walk back to the table after leaving him in the hallway, the whole time expecting my legs to give out on me. I knew that the minute I said how far along I was, he would have questions. I just didn’t expect him to have questions at that moment. Arriving at the table, I sit down and grab the water bottle.

I listen to the chatter and wait for him to come back, but he doesn’t. “Okay,” Franny announces, getting up, “time to get going.”

Wilson follows her. “I’ll get the baby.” He turns to walk away and go to the little play area where the kids are.

“I guess I’ll go too,” Gabriella states, getting up. “I think I need a nap.”

“I miss napping,” Franny sighs. “It used to be my all-time favorite thing to do.”

“I thought sex was your all-time favorite thing to do?” Vivienne teases.

“It’s a close tie.” She laughs. “Definitely a nap after sex.” I can’t help but laugh at her as she comes over to kiss me goodbye and touch my little bump.

“We should head out also,” Vivienne declares, looking at Xavier.

“Can you guys drop me off?” I ask, and they both nod at me.

“I’m coming too.” Gabriella gets up, and we start the process of leaving.

At this point, it takes an extra thirty minutes before you get through hugging everyone. I take a look around for Tristan when I’m saying goodbye, but I don’t see him or Penelope.

The drive takes them no less than five minutes, and I laugh as I see the trail of french fries still there. I kick off my sneakers at the door and walk over to the fridge, grabbing the bottle of water, wishing it was something stronger. Gabriella walks in and looks at me, leaning against the counter, and instead of coming to me, she walks over to the cabinet and takes out the Patrón.

I watch her like a hawk as she grabs a shot glass from the other cabinet and then goes to the island stool. She places the tequila on the island and then pulls out her stool. “What…?” I start to ask, and she holds up her hand to tell me to wait a second. She pours a shot of tequila and then takes it. She hisses and then looks at me.

“The things I do for you.” She wipes her mouth. “Now, you can talk.”

“Talk about?” I just stare at her, and she gives me a come on look. “Let’s talk about why you moved to Dallas?” She just looks at me knowing I’m deflecting off myself and onto her, “Shall we talk about the fact that you are brokenhearted but pretend everything is okay?”

“There is nothing to talk about.”

She avoids looking at me and takes another shot of tequila, “But we can talk about the fact Tristan asked you how far along you were?” She taps her finger on the counter. “And are we going to discuss that he followed you to where you went and never came back?”

“I think he knows,” I finally admit, and I have to put my hand on my knees because I think I’m going to have a full-on panic attack.

“Shocking,” she deadpans as she pours herself another shot of tequila and laughs.


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