Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 127390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Kace squeezed me a little harder. “So, I’m new here and definitely don’t pretend to be any kind of expert on female friendships, but from what I can see, all the Old Ladies seem to be solid. Fucking insane of course. But willing to cut off a limb for their friends. Who they consider their family.”
I pursed my lips because I couldn’t argue with him. Even though I wanted to.
“I also know Amy. Who, if you get on the wrong side of, is scarier than Bull and Gage combined. But, if you get into her heart, she’ll do anything for you. You’re in everyone’s hearts, babe. Not knowing the specifics, I can’t say much for sure, but I will bet whatever she did, she did out of love. She did it because she thought she was doing something right for you, good for you.”
“Why is it that you’re younger yet so fucking wise?” I snapped, pissed that he was being so reasonable, making so much sense. I was also pissed that we were laying here after sex, talking about something like this. It was a different kind of intimacy, a more dangerous kind.
“I’m still mad,” I grumbled when Amy opened the door.
She grinned. “I’d be disappointed if you weren’t.”
The door closed behind me, and I went straight for the living room. The house was decorated in an impeccable, impossibly expensive way, but also in a way that didn’t make you scared to sit on her sofa.
“Do you want wine?” she offered.
“It’s eleven in the morning,” I pointed out.
“I’ll put some orange juice in it.”
I really wanted to grin, but I had a hangover to nurse, so instead I just nodded with pursed lips. She smiled and disappeared.
I looked at the photos spaced expertly between very expensive looking prints and pieces of art. There were many of her and Gwen from their time before Amber, looking amazing, laughing, smiling, cocktails in hand. A couple of her, Gwen and Ian. I stared at those the hardest, wondering when I might feel like I could have photos of Ranger mixed in with old and new memories. Of course, we had many photos of him around the house, but I’d made an art out of never actually looking at them.
All I wanted was to take them down, so I wasn’t faced with the fact that he only lived in photographs now. But my kids needed to see their dad. Remember him, know that he was still a part of their home and their hearts.
“Mimosas!” Amy announced, thankfully jerking me from my melancholic wonderings.
I took the flute thankfully.
She sat across from me, eyes meeting mine. “So, you want to start in with the bitch fight or have a drink first?” she quipped. “Then again, it’s most likely going to be a one-sided bitch fight since I’m not mad at you, and I’m not the bitch fighter I used to be in my younger days.”
“I fear my bitch fighting days are behind me too,” I replied, although I’d never really had any bitch fighting days. “I’m just here to talk. To apologize. I shouldn’t have come at you like I did.”
Amy raised a perfectly manicured brow. “Girl, yes you had a total right to. I was way out of line. I should’ve talked to you first. But I knew talking to you wouldn’t have made you believe me. Believe in yourself. So I made a choice. One that I don’t regret. “
I chewed my lip. I’d been doing a lot of thinking this morning. Had gone over the publishing deal after Kace and the kids left. Not that I knew a whole lot about such things, but I knew that number was fucking big. I also knew that Amy was smart. She most likely had a very fancy and expensive lawyer look over the deal before she brought it to me. Kace’s words had followed me throughout the morning too. He was right. She had done this out of love. Goodness.
Still, I was pissed.
“Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not happy about what you did,” I pinned her with my stare. “This was something private. Something I hadn’t told anyone about, something that you should’ve waited for me to reveal instead of invading my privacy.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right, I’m sorry. Let’s get to the part where you talk about how you’ll forgive me, and we’ll get on a jet and head to New York,” she chirped.
I blinked. “Jet. New York?”
“Uh, duh,” she rolled her eyes. “They’re waiting for you to get back to them so we can organize a meeting. I’ll be coming as your stylist and friend and also because I am in serious need of a Fifth Avenue fix.”
“We can’t go to New York,” I countered. “Someone is trying to kill me.”
“It’s the perfect time to go then,” she argued. “I highly doubt that your would-be killer is going to find themselves on a jet or be able to afford a room at The Ritz. We’re going.”