Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“Do you plan to get off the floor anytime soon?” he asks, reminding me he hasn’t left yet. He’s still standing there waiting for me.
“Yes, I do. But not until I have this all back in order.” I don’t even raise my head when I speak to him.
“What are you doing in here?”
We both turn to Shandy, who’s standing in the doorway. Beckham pushes past her and out, leaving me sitting on the floor with Shandy watching him go before she looks back at me.
“What is going on with you two?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I say, smiling.
“Yeah, well … I know that’s a lie. Look, you got something delivered and it’s on your desk.” Confused, I put the last of the files away neatly and stand.
“What is it?”
“Flowers. Big ones, too. So, tell me, who are they from? Because we both know Beckham doesn’t do flowers.”
Brushing my hands down my skirt, I make my way back to my desk. When I approach, I see Beckham standing there staring at the flowers. When he notices me, he strides straight into his office and shuts the door, with not a care in the world.
“They sure are beautiful,” I murmur.
“And expensive,” Shandy comments.
There is a card amongst the blooms, so I pick it out and open it.
This is to start a new slate.
I would like to meet my son.
With a quick shake of my head, I drop the card to the floor.
That’s a no.
No way.
Never ever!
Who does he think he is? He can’t send me flowers and expect to see his son.
Anderson is not a good man. He hurt Rylee—almost killed her. And threatened to take Oliver away before I had even given birth to him.
Flowers don’t make up for things like that. Not at all.
Prison couldn’t have changed him that much in such a short time.
“If you plan to throw them away, can I have them?” Shandy asks, staring at me.
I pick them up and hand them to her. “They’re all yours.”
She smiles. “Thanks. I had a date Sunday and have another tonight. She’s going to love these.”
“Glad I could assist,” I say as I sit back down.
“Jacinta.”
“Hmm?” I look up at Shandy, and her eyes fall to his office behind me. “You’re doing okay, right?”
“I’m fine, really.”
She nods, happy with my words, and walks off.
I don’t see Beckham the rest of the day, which is actually surprisingly hard since he is my boss. When I leave, I don’t even bother saying goodbye. I pick up Oliver and go straight to my house. As soon as I close the car door and Oliver runs inside, I see Anderson again. No car this time, just walking down the street.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I tell him.
He looks me over, and I feel dirty. Filthy.
“My mother is asking about him now.”
“Your mother agreed to no contact,” I say, which makes him grind his teeth.
“She doesn’t agree anymore.”
“It doesn’t matter. She isn’t his mother,” I bite back.
“No, but she is his grandmother. Did you get my flowers?”
I look back over my shoulder to see Oliver is standing at the door. Anderson notices the direction of my stare and then looks as well.
“Go back inside,” I yell.
Anderson watches Oliver, but he listens to me and retreats inside.
“I could give you a nicer place to live than this.” He examines my house and turns his nose up at it.
“I’m fine with how I live, thank you,” I say back to him.
“Did you get the flowers?” he asks again.
“I did.”
“And you like them?”
“No. Don’t do that again. Especially not to my work,” I snap.
“I assumed it would be better than me coming there.” He focuses again on my house.
“You should leave.” I step back, car keys in my hand.
“Why do you look afraid of me?” His head drops to the side as he assesses me. “I would never hurt you,” he says.
“Is that what you said to Rylee?” I ask.
And I shouldn’t have. It’s taunting him. But I know what a liar he is.
He licks his lips, and his hands go to his sides.
“You are nothing like her. I never loved you like I loved her, Jacinta. You were a piece of ass who just happened to get pregnant and have my baby. Now, to say I would have hoped it was her would be an understatement, but my mother is telling me time and time again that I should be in this kid’s life. And I’m starting to believe her. We don’t want him to turn out like you now, do we?”
“Leave before I call the police,” I say, stepping farther back.
“Just so you know … you can’t keep a child from his father or his family. Because that’s what I am … what my mother is. Family.” He smirks and turns. A shiver goes through my entire body, and now I remember why I ran after I had Oliver—the threats that came from that family.