Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“That’s where Father John touched me.” His lips flattened into a scowl. My eyes widened at his admission, before he rolled his eyes and pinched my ass.
“You should’ve seen your face.”
“I want to punch your face.”
“Let’s settle for you sitting on my face. Tonight. Now come on, let’s get it over with.”
Alex’s parents, Louisa and Jim, both looked like older, bloated versions of him. His father was pasty white with a pink nose of someone who always had a bottle of something strong in his hand, but also had the same sharp, cut lines. Strong jaw and square chin. His mother’s body was wrinkly, tan, and plump, but her tawny eyes were bright, mischievous, and compelling.
The house was clattered with stuff—useless stuff, stuff you order from the shopping channel. Carly, his sister, had highlights in her chestnut hair and wore bubblegum lipstick and matching sweatpants, and her kids, all between the ages of four and nine, looked so different from each other, I found it easy to remember their names.
We sat at the dining room table and ate industrial mashed potatoes and a roast. Louisa had microwaved the entire meal, coughing into it in the process of serving it to us. They cracked open a few cans of beers, which made me want to cry for Alex. Every time someone took a sip I balled my fists and tried breathing through the pain.
“So…Indigo.” His dad rolled my name like it was a bad joke.
I locked my spine, raising my chin high. I would not be ridiculed about my name. I didn’t choose it, and, frankly, would never change it. It was one of the most important pieces of memory I had from my parents. Bonus points: blue really was a fantastic color. Especially when it was dark and bottomless. Like my name. Like their son.
“Mixing business and pleasure, aye? Our lad here sure knows how to lure a girl into his clutches.” His dad chuckled, spraying bits of mashed potatoes from his mouth as he elbowed Alex, who sat next to him, right across from me. Alex’s eyes narrowed, his angry tick, and he pushed his dad away with his own elbow.
“Let it go,” he hissed, his tone so low and cold, chills rolled down my back.
“Oh, come on, he’s just having a laugh,” Louisa chimed in, piling another bulk of mashed potatoes onto Alex’s plate. “So, how are things going? How are the lads? Alfie’s doing well for himself. Funny, innit? He was the one who could never get shagged to save his life.”
“That’s a great observation to be making in front of the kids,” Alex said flatly.
“Sex is natural,” his mom retorted.
“Talking about it over family dinner—not so much.” Alex looked kind of pale.
Silence. I coughed, wishing someone would say something, anything.
“At least Alfie posts pictures on Instagram so we can keep up with him,” Carly huffed, breaking up a food fight between Bentley and Chayse as she spoke. Bentley sprung from his seat and ran for the living room, shouting obscenities. Alex’s dad burped loudly, and if I wasn’t mistaken, also deliberately. I was beginning to feel guilty for asking Alex to come here. It was pretty presumptuous of me to assume I knew something he didn’t. He didn’t feel comfortable here. And I could see why. I stretched my leg under the table, lacing it with his. It soothed him a little, I think, because his broad shoulders eased, but he still looked like he could spit fire at any moment and burn down the entire house.
“The lads are fine,” Alex bit out, dragging his fork along the plate and producing an unnerving sound, his eyes dead on the stale mashed potatoes.
“And Fallon? She called to wish me a happy birthday two weeks ago. And she talked to me for more than the obligatory five minutes.” His mother gave him a pointed look of her own, and that was my cue to dissolve into a cloud of humiliation and sail away from the table.
I shifted in my seat, my shoulder accidentally brushing hers.
“You talk to her more than I do. Ask her yourself,” Alex mumbled, running a finger smack in the middle of his plate, separating the mashed potatoes and gravy from the roast. “Scratch that—I don’t talk to Fallon anymore. At all.”
“You don’t?” Carly chipped in.
I was being ghosted, live from his kitchen. This plan had really backfired in my face.
“Yeah, we stopped communicating sometime after she fucked one of my best friends and sold the engagement ring I bought for her to fund a new pair of tits.”
“Alex, the kids!” Carly moaned.
“What?” He smirked, cocking his head sideways. “Thought you said sex is natural. And enough about Fallon.”
“But surely you’ll bump into her in Paris. I’d love to see you together again. You made a gorgeous couple,” his mother persisted, a sinister smirk decorating her face. It reminded me of Alex’s smile when he bullied people, only her jab was directed at…me. By the look on Alex’s face, he did not appreciate being on the receiving end of mistreatment.