Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
“I’m opening my own law firm. Entertainment law and contracts. I was going to make it a one-man show, but a slew of other attorneys caught wind, and you’re now looking at the proud co-owner of Ayala & Thomas Entertainment Law Group.” My hand slides across the small table, taking his, squeezing it gently when really, I want to shout from the rooftop that I’m insanely happy for him. I don’t though.
“Mace, honey, I’m so proud of you.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. This is another moment I’ve missed out on. In another time, it would have been the two of us making this decision together, him telling me his every hope and dream. I’d be lying if I said I weren’t feeling a wee bit left out, along with the other thoughts swirling around in my head. Truthfully, deep down in the calm, more collective part of the right side of my brain, I did what I could, went above and beyond. That damn left side, though, that’s what has me over-thinking, processing, and reprocessing if I gave Mace a fair shot.
“Thanks, siren. It’s still early. Feel up to seeing the office?” How could I ever say no to the man before my eyes? I’m excited and also nervous.
“I’d like that, but you do know owning a business could mean falling into that same rut again,” I suggest, remembering what Celeste went through starting her salon, Wylder talking about all of the hours he worked to get his casino and hotel up and off the ground.
“That’s why I’m bringing in partners as well as assistants. I want to be the owner, but not so much so that I’m controlling every facet of the firm.” Mace stands up. I take one last sip of my coffee because even if I don’t take the time to see his office, there’s no way I’m going to sit here alone all night.
“It seems like you have it all planned out. I’ll be right back.” The girl who was singing when we walked in still is, and there’s a tip jar. Her voice was soft, soothing, as if she was humming a lullaby. Truthfully, it probably held my emotions in check when Mace gave me all the words I wished for last year. Fate is a fickle bitch, and it seems I’m destined to be at the receiving end of this cruel fucking joke of this thing we call life.
EIGHT
Mace
I let her go, even though every muscle in my body was screaming at me to go after my girl. I didn’t, not yet at least. I watch as she puts a few bills in the open guitar case of the woman who’s singing. The lady smiles and nods at Tyra, and I can see the deep breath she inhales before turning around. One thing is for certain: I’m not letting her go, not like I did last time. I’ll fight with every dying breath if it means I’ll wake up with my wife and fall asleep with her like we did before I chased after a dollar. I can see Tyra’s barely holding it together, trying to hold it in, not shedding a tear in front of a sea of people or myself. There’s a slew of adjectives I could use when it comes to her—strong, independent, loving, giving, and there’s also stubborn to the bone, going so far as to not cry until she’s locked in the bathroom, shower running with her inside it. I found her like that once. It was after receiving the news that Tyra’s dad had a heart attack and needed triple bypass surgery. Von had just turned one. The minute our boy was in bed, she ran into the bathroom. I gave her a few minutes before I followed her inside the shower, back to the tile floor, Tyra’s arms wrapping around my neck, head buried as close as she could possibly get, and that’s when my wife let her guard down.
“Two minutes, siren, just a hundred and twenty seconds. Can you hold on until then?” My arm goes around her shoulder. Instinctively, she slides closer to me, the quaking in her shoulders telling me she may not last too much longer. “You okay with leaving your car here?”
“Yeah, I don’t know why I’m breaking down. I swore to myself that I’d quit crying over things that I have zero control over, and here I am, blubbering all over you.” She pulls back. My eyes lock on hers.
“Siren, you let it out. I’m the cause for this, and I’ll be there to wipe every tear you shed and hold you while you get it out.” We walk out of the small café, me guiding her towards the restaurant.
“I’m not going to cry.” Tyra blinks her eyes rapidly, attempting to keep her emotions in check all while her hand slides beneath my suit jacket, fingers digging into my side. There isn’t an inch of space between us. I shouldn’t be happy she’s barely hanging on by a thread, but there’s something about the moment, knowing I’m acting as her raft when I was the one in the first place to throw her in the ocean without a life raft.