Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 82060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Because Mister Morris used to do that.
At an event or gathering, he’d lead Miss Dorothea to a seat, made sure she was comfortable, but he was a stander.
He stood.
Usually close to his wife’s side, sometimes so he’d be there if she needed anything, because he’d send Darius or one of his sisters to get their mother and him something, but usually, it was Mister Morris who saw to Miss Dorothea. Sometimes it seemed just so he’d be close, but she’d be comfortable.
Oh God.
Darius spoke.
“You do understand that we both love you and it’s important for us to know you’re processing this appropriately.”
Man, he had this down. That Jules chick must be something.
“No shade, Dad, but again, I’m not five,” Liam said, his manner relaxed, his face untroubled, his lips slightly tipped up at the ends. “I know how you two feel about each other. It’s kinda hard to miss. So I guess how I’m processing things is to say it’s about damned time.” He looked to me. “No offense with the cursing, Mom, but it’s warranted, don’t you think?” Before I could answer (that would be in the negative), he returned his attention to his dad. “But you gotta talk Mom into moving here. Your place is where it’s at.”
“Your mother likes the wine cellar,” Darius shared.
I hadn’t even seen it.
Still, I’d had a glass of wine from it.
So, I liked it.
“I knew that’d get her,” Liam mumbled.
I decided it was time to cut in.
“You seem very okay with this, honey. But maybe we should all take some time to get used to it.”
Liam unslouched to put his elbows to his knees and level his gaze on me.
“I love you, Mom,” he said softly. “But that’s cracked. Stop wasting time. Be happy. Please.”
Welp!
That did it.
I’d done well. I’d held them back, lots of times.
But I couldn’t hack that.
I burst out crying.
“Oh shit,” Liam muttered.
Darius pulled me out of the couch and into his arms.
“You got this?” Liam asked. “I got history homework.”
“Got it, son. Go,” Darius replied.
“’Night, Mom,” Liam called.
“’N-n-night, h-h-honey,” I blubbered.
“’Night, Dad.”
“See you in the morning.”
I cried and I cried some more, then a thought hit me, and I quit crying and looked up at Darius.
“I don’t have any clean panties.”
“Don’t think I can send our boy out for those,” Darius replied.
I slapped his shoulder.
He started chuckling.
Then he pulled me closer. “It won’t kill you to drive home in yesterday’s undies, will it?”
I sniffled and shook my head.
“Pack heavy when you come back tomorrow night after work,” he ordered.
I stared up at him and condensed my “everything” discussion to one question.
“Are we really doing this?”
“We are absolutely doing this.”
Happiness blossomed in me.
So, of course, my face crumpled, and I cried some more.
Darius held me through it.
Sheltering my storm.
Chapter Fourteen
Chicken Montana
I woke, stretched, my wrist hit something, and I opened my eyes.
It was just dawn, the light coming in from outside was weak, but I could see I’d knocked the new toothbrush head that Darius had put on his pillow off said pillow.
I smiled.
Then I looked around, but Darius wasn’t there. The bathroom door was open, so he must be up already.
I nabbed the toothbrush head, threw the covers back, and in Darius’s thermal, which I put on after our second round last night (finding something good about Liam having a whole level to himself, with another one sandwiched in between), I padded to the bathroom.
I did my business, got dressed and headed downstairs, making a mental list of what to pack to bring over and wondering if I had time at lunch to run out and double up on some toiletries.
Once I hit the downstairs, I heard male voices coming from the kitchen and headed that way.
I stopped in the door.
So much was happening last night, I didn’t get to take a moment to really watch father and son interact.
Now I saw Liam sitting at a stool at the long island that was the centerpiece of the big kitchen, eating eggs and bacon and toast with grape jelly, his back to me, but doing this like he’d lived there all his life, not just every other week for the last five months.
Darius was standing across from him wearing a long-sleeved Henley, this one in burnt orange, and jeans.
He had his weight braced into his hands at the edge of the counter, spread out to the sides, and his gaze on me.
He looked like the master of his domain, which he was, and that domain he’d created was amazing, like he was.
Liam caught his dad looking at me and peered over his shoulder my way.
“Carry on,” I said softly. “I want to watch.”
“You’re not going to cry again, are you?” Liam asked.
“I make no promises.”
He shook his head, a smile playing at his lips, and went back to his food.