Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Was he mad, they asked.
Was it lies, they questioned.
Don’t you want your say, Mr. Marcello?
“And one with a smile,” the photog said, “before we let the rest of the family join in and have our large shot taken, too.”
The four generations smiled.
Even the baby.
Did he want to have his say?
No.
His legacy would always speak for him. For itself.
He was glad he hadn’t missed this.
Lucian Outtakes
New Walls
“Hi.”
“Hello ... Jordyn.”
Jordyn shifted on her feet, smiling but still seeming uncomfortable. The man across the foyer from her wasn’t in any better of a predicament, really. Lucian felt ten shades of awkward standing beside his wife, but only because he didn’t know what to say or do to make her feel better about the situation they were currently in.
This wasn’t easy for her.
It would never be easy.
But she deserved to know her father.
“Uh,” Roland mumbled, clearing his throat. “Do you drink coffee or something? You wanna drink?”
“Water,” Lucian said quickly.
He was pretty sure Jordyn wasn’t supposed to be drinking coffee in her condition, but since she didn’t know, he didn’t want to spoil the news this way. Especially in front of a man who neither of them knew all that well.
Even if that man was her father.
Jordyn nodded. “Water is fine.”
“Sure, sure. You can take your shoes off or whatever. Drop the coats.” Roland pointed to an entryway. “Living-room is in there. I’ll bring you the drinks.”
Without waiting for Lucian or Jordyn to respond, Roland turned on his heel and left the couple alone in the entryway.
Jordyn turned to face Lucian with sadness in her gaze. “This is ...”
“Awkward,” he supplied quietly.
“Not what I was expecting.”
Yeah, that, too.
Lucian frowned. “We can go, Jordyn. If that’s what you want, bella, we can go right now. Just say the word.”
Jordyn shook her head as she toed off her suede boots. “No, Lucian. I want to talk to him, at least. I need to do this.”
“Fine.”
Lucian slipped his coat and boots off, placing them in a closet with Jordyn’s things. He couldn’t help but notice the empty hangers inside the closet. Roland’s coat was in there, but no one else’s things happened to be except a couple of American Eagle sweaters.
Where was the man’s wife and kids?
*
Lucian kept Jordyn’s hand firmly tucked into his as she conversed with her father.
Well, conversed was a strong word.
Mostly, Jordyn talked and the man awkwardly replied or assumed something of a reply.
Maybe it was the time that had separated them. Maybe it was the fact Jordyn was grown, now, and not a child. Maybe it was the fact that Lucian had informed Roland of Jordyn’s childhood growing up in an MC with an abusive man front row and center, and then her mother’s subsequent death.
Who knew?
Lucian hadn’t told Roland those things to guilt or shame the man. He’d done it because the guy deserved to know the sorts of stuff Jordyn’s mother had put her through. He deserved to know why Jordyn might not be willing to open up or why she might hold some lingering resentment toward her father.
Lucian wouldn’t blame Jordyn if she did, but apparently, that wasn’t the case at all.
Roland, on the other hand, felt like a wall of bricks.
Impenetrable.
“This, uh, isn’t the house you came home to after Sandra had you,” Roland informed.
Jordyn raised a brow. “No?”
“No, we lived in a rental. Shoddy little place, but that’s all we could afford. I stayed there for a while after ...”
“After she left,” Lucian finished for the man.
Roland shrugged. “Yeah.”
Jordyn frowned. “Did you keep anything of mine? Like pictures or something?”
“A couple. Whatever your mother didn’t take or ruin on her way out.”
Jordyn kind of looked around the room. Lucian followed her gaze. There were lots of framed photographs on the walls, showcasing Roland and a woman and two children. Family photos, candid photos, and everything in between.
Lucian had seen the few baby pictures Jordyn had of herself that her mother managed to keep. He’d recognize a picture of his wife’s infant self. Not one of the pictures had Jordyn in them.
Roland seemed to notice Jordyn’s displeasure. “When I bought and moved into this place with my wife, I let her have the rule of the house. She did all the decorating, you know. I just nail and hang where she tells me.”
Lucian swallowed the awful feeling welling in his gut.
Jordyn’s hand tightened in his, like she was holding back something.
He did not want her in pain. He did not want her bitter and sad.
This was not supposed to be about that at all.
“And mine didn’t make the cut?” Jordyn finally asked.
Lucian tugged gently on his wife’s hand. “Jordyn, hey.”
Hurt reflected in her blue eyes.
He didn’t know what to say.
“Well,” Roland drawled.
“What?” Jordyn asked.
“Mostly, my wife wanted to move on from all that—start our family with the memories we’d make and let go of what was gone. I understood. I’d tried to find you the best I could but I didn’t have a whole hell of a lot of money to get where I needed to go. I figured your mother had moved on to someone else and maybe you had a man raising you. That was my hope, anyway.”