Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“You’re fucking perfect,” I say. “Do you know that?”
She smiles, not answering that question. “Can I use your restroom?”
“Washing my taste out of your mouth already?”
She laughs and grabs her suitcase, disappearing down the hall for a few minutes.
When she returns, she’s dressed in flannel pajamas. I'll never know why she bothered putting those hot things on when she sleeps best naked.
Then again, that’s probably for the best right now.
After she curls into my lap, we return to watching SVU episodes.
“Hey,” she whispers as the familiar theme song plays. “Are you still awake?”
“Yes.”
“If I said I wanted you to be my first, what would you say?”
“I’d tell you to go to sleep.” I kiss her hair. “You’ve had a long travel day and you’re just talking.”
“Can I ask you one more thing?”
“Anything.”
“You once said that long distance relationships don’t tend to work out.”
“I said that before getting into one with you.”
“Yeah, well…” She sounds nervous for the first time tonight. “Are you sleeping with other girls?”
“No.” I flip her over to face me and kiss her lips. “My streak of ‘no sex in over a year’ is still going.”
“If I don’t sleep with you soon, will you tell me we’re over?”
I hold back a laugh. “I would never.”
“Why not?”
“Because I like you too fucking much.” I kiss her again. “And you’re without a doubt, the only girlfriend I ever want to have.”
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY DAYS SINCE THEY SAID “I DO”
RALPH
Fountains of Bellagio
Las Vegas, Nevada
Where the hell are they?
My cigar’s smoke unfurled into the wind, the toxic scent reminding me that I needed to quit this bad habit.
Yet, whenever it came to dealing with “The Punisher,” and all the things that came with managing his illustrious career, my daily dose of nicotine was the only way I could handle it.
Now that Tatiana was back in his life, my single dose was on the verge of becoming an overdose.
Being around the two of them for more than an hour was beyond exhausting because they refused to admit what everyone else could so obviously see.
Checking my phone, I made sure I hadn’t misread Madeline’s updated schedule for this week.
Mr. & Mrs. Carter will go on a romantic date in front of the iconic Bellagio fountains.
I waited a few more minutes before calling Travis.
“Yeah, Ralph?” he answered, breathing heavily. “What’s up?”
“What’s up is that I’m standing outside the Bellagio waiting on the Carters. Where the hell are you and your wife?”
“I’m in the gym working out,” he said. “I can’t speak to wherever she is. Call Ryan and see.”
“Are you two planning to do this photo opp a little later tonight or something?”
“Like I said, I don’t know what she’s doing and I don’t care.” He definitely cared. “We’re not talking anymore.”
I hung up and called Tatiana.
It rang three times, and while her voicemail was sounding, she sent me a text.
Text from Tatiana:
If you’re calling to talk to me about Travis, leave a voicemail and I’ll listen to it next week. If it’s about anything else, call me right back and I’ll answer.
For fuck’s sake…
—
THE SNARKY GLOVE
#1 UFC & MMA GOSSIP SOURCE FOR FANGIRLS
Dearest Fans,
It’s been an entire week (no, wait. longer!), and there hasn't been a single sighting of Mr. or Mrs. Travis Carter!
They spent the first few weeks of their newly wedded bliss serving us look after look, day after day, and now they decide to give us nothing? Now they leave us dry?
What the hell is going on?
Until we figure it out, “Damn, Travis Carter” is currently trending on Twitter, and it has nothing to do with him being M.I.A.
Late last night, ‘Red Eye’ Juarez fired a shot at him with the following tweet:
@ChampionChristopherJuarez Dear Mrs. Carter, I want you to know that you’re sexy AF and deserve a far better man than your husband. Hit me up whenever you want to fuck a real champion. #promisetodickyoudownbetter
Travis was not amused, as he quickly responded:
@TheRealTravisCarter Dear Mr. Juarez, my sexy AF wife appreciates the compliment, but she’s not interested in your offer. If she ever wants to experience three inches instead of nine, she’ll let you know. #promisetomurderyou
Stay tuned for more news & updates,
The Snarky Glove
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FIVE DAYS AFTER SAYING “I DO”
TRAVIS
Grace Medical Complex
Las Vegas, Nevada
On the night I lost to Juarez, a team of medics rushed inside the octagon and carried me to a waiting ambulance. Within four minutes, I was driven from the arena to a private room at Grace Hospital while the members of my then-entourage crowded the waiting room downstairs.
I lashed out at whoever came to visit, hurling a variation of “Get the fuck out,” or “Go away,” because I was still in denial about the fight.
Although I didn’t regret losing the leeching members of my entourage, the way I’d treated one of the nurses during my stay still bothered me.
Making sure the lily bouquet was secure, I parked in the visitors' lot and shut off the engine. I double-checked to ensure I had the correct name and carried the flowers to the trauma unit.