Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
“No, bring him home.” To me. “If you want to hang out with your son, you can do it there.” Under my watchful eye.
The words unspoken hung in the air.
I don’t trust you.
But Twitch’s lip lifted in the corner. “Okay. He’s out by three, right?”
“Yeah. You remember where it is?”
He gave me a singular nod. “I do.” After a moment, he said, “When are we gonna talk? Really talk?”
I was a coward, so I checked my watch. “Another time. I have to go.”
“Yeah.” His lips thinned. “Yoga.”
What did he just say?
My brows rose slowly. My mouth gaped. “You’ve been following me?”
He let out a choked laugh and shook his head as if I were hilarious. “Baby,” was all he said, as if asking, “Do you even know me?”
I inwardly sighed.
Of course he’d been following me.
This was Twitch we were talking about. He probably knew my weekly schedule by heart. Shit. He probably knew what time I showered every night.
With a long sigh, I shook my head, and uttered, “Yep. I am not even going there today,” and was rewarded with the most beautiful crooked smile known to man. And that smile struck me in such a way that I knew I needed to get out of there and do it quickly.
Twitch saw me out, and as I walked away, he called to me. When I twisted to face him, his jaw was tight when he said, “The yoga dude, your teacher or whatever the fuck he is.”
My brow knitted. “What about him?”
“You tell him to keep his paws to himself—” He stood tall, eyes darkening a notch. “—or I’ll break ‘em clean off.”
My insides blazed hotter than the sun.
Ugh.
The door closed before I could even react, and I should not have felt the way I was feeling at that moment.
Jesus Christ.
No.
Definitely not.
When I walked through the front door, I heard him. “Can you, I don’t know, fuck off?”
My brow lowered as I slowed my walk. That was when I heard Molly’s sweet voice. “No, thanks.”
Twitch sighed loudly, and when I made it through the hall entrance, he looked over at me completely flustered, his brows furrowed in annoyance. “Angel, tell her she can leave me alone with my son.”
I looked between Molly and Twitch, then looked over at A.J., who sat oblivious on the sofa, eating his after-school snack. I shook my head slowly. “Molly goes where A.J. goes.”
He blinked at me, irritated beyond belief, and when Molly shot him a wide smile of victory, he stepped toward me. “Jesus, Lex. I’m not gonna fuckin’ steal him away.”
“Aren’t you?”
When he gave me a look of absolute disgust, I almost felt ashamed of myself.
Almost.
I watched his throat bob as he swallowed through the anger. When he spoke, it was little over a whisper. “I would never take him from you.” His lips thinned and his brow lowered dangerously at the thought. “Not ever.”
Good to know, not that I’m dumb enough to trust you.
Before we got into an argument, I slid my bag off my shoulder and onto the floor. “Are you staying for dinner?”
“I don’t know.” He still sounded injured at my accusation. “What’s on the menu?”
“Eggplant Parmesan.”
He made a face of pure rapture. “Fuck, yeah, I’m staying.”
I shook my head, curbing my smile at his oddly familiar reaction. He loved Italian food, and when I cooked for him, he loved my Italian food. As he followed me into the kitchen, I uttered quietly, “You need to stop swearing around him.”
Twitch scoffed. “He’s heard it all before. He knows not to say that shit.” I made a sound low in my throat, and he called out, “A.J., tell Mommy what Daddy told you about swearing.”
From the other room, A.J. spoke loud enough for us both to hear. “I can listen to it but can’t say it.” Then he added, “Not until I’m older.”
My brows pulled down, and I called back, “Not until ever,” and Twitch grinned so hard that I felt it in my womb.
At dinnertime, we sat at the table, and while Twitch was already on his second serving of my Eggplant Parmesan, A.J. glared down at his plate. “I don’t like it.”
“You either eat or go to bed. It’s your choice, honey,” I told him. We never had an issue until a meal was all vegetables. I got it—he was five; he was also a boy, and my son was a carnivore.
He folded his arms across his chest. “You don’t have to eat things you don’t like. Why do you make me eat things I don’t like?”
A look of pure sympathy washed over my features. I leaned down, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “Because I’m your mother and your suffering is very important to me.”
Twitch snuffled out a laugh, and when A.J. peered up at him with pleading eyes, Twitch raised his hands. “Don’t look at me, bud. Mommy makes the rules around here.”