Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
I tried my best to just make the most of it while I could. It was bound to get complicated at some point.
We slept together every night now. Which wasn’t a good idea. But it wasn’t a good idea to marry him in the first place. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Life was happening fast these days.
But the immigration process moved slow.
My application was ‘processing,’ and our lawyer informed us we could be getting a letter with our interview date tomorrow or it could be multiple months more, depending on the volume of the applications.
So, my marriage could either last till tomorrow or for months.
There wasn’t much I could do but drink and enjoy the orgasms.
I’d been contemplating drinking alone since Nora was unable to drink with me and Tina and Tiffany were out on some kind of camping trip.
I didn’t have some huge circle of friends. I was a likable gal and had made many friends on my travels, but at this stage in my life, I didn’t want a huge circle of friends. I wanted a family I could count on. People who I could trust with my life. I had that. Unfortunately, they had families of their own and weren’t as available to drink away their sorrows.
Because these days, they didn’t have many sorrows.
Which was a good thing.
Kip would be home soon. He didn’t really hit the same spot a girlfriend drinking buddy did, but he cooked for me and fucked me good. A girl couldn’t complain.
When someone knocked at my front door, I half expected it to be Deidre. Hoped it would be too. Now I wouldn’t feel quite so guilty about having her under my roof and pretending to like her son. I wasn’t pretending anymore. Or at least, the lie didn’t seem to be quite as big. Plus, I liked her company.
But it wasn’t Deidre.
I opened the door to find Calliope standing there. She was Rowan’s sister and had recently moved to town under… mysterious circumstances. My favorite kind. And I figured we’d be fast friends, but we just hadn’t had the chance to hang out a whole bunch one-on-one.
“Wanna go out and get fucked-up?” she said the second I opened the door.
Yeah, we were gonna be fast friends.
“Come in,” I said, stepping aside. “Got a bottle of wine in the fridge and tequila in the freezer. Take your pick while I get ready.”
“On it,” she said, strutting through the door, her heels clicking as she did.
eight
Nuclear Women
Kip came home just as we’d finished our drinks and were getting ready to leave.
He took one look at Calliope and muttered, “Oh shit.”
“Hello to you, too, Kippers,” Calliope greeted, getting out of her chair to run over to him.
He opened his arms and hugged her easily. Like a brother might.
Yet something burned in my throat ever so slightly. My fingers curled inward, and I had a fleeting vision of raking my nails through the skin of my new friend’s face.
I was not a jealous woman. Never had been. I’d come to learn that if a man gave you a reason to be jealous, then he wasn’t the right kind of man.
But I already knew Kip wasn’t the right kind of man for me.
Kip released Calliope, and his eyes went to me. Followed by his feet. He didn’t hesitate to yank me into his arms and kiss the living fuck out of me.
It wasn’t unlike any other greeting I got these days, but I didn’t normally get it in front of an audience.
Calliope let out a low whistle when we were done, leaning against the counter with her drink, watching us unabashedly with a smirk on her face.
“I really couldn’t believe it until I saw it with my own two eyes,” she said.
Kip didn’t let me go, though I yanked against his arm gently.
He just turned me so he could regard my outfit.
I’d only dressed to match Calliope. Well, to attempt to measure up to Calliope. Our styles didn’t exactly jive. I liked clothes, but I was pretty casual. I felt most comfortable in jeans, easy dresses—uncomplicated shit. Calliope was not uncomplicated. Even though she’d moved from New York—although she wouldn’t say whether she’d actually moved or was on an extended vacation—to Jupiter, a casual, sleepy, seaside town, she had not abandoned her New York apparel.
She wore a black leather pencil skirt that clung to her like a second skin, showing off her kick-ass curves, then a silk camisole tucked into it, which her impressive tits were on display in. The heels she was wearing would only serve to break my ankle if I attempted to walk two feet in them, and they looked like they cost a thousand bucks. Her angular face was accentuated by the slicked-back bun she’d pulled her dark hair into, her full lips were painted bright red, and her eyeliner was black and sharp as fuck.