Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
My heart balloons until it hardly fits in my chest. And I’m not sure there’s much more to say, other than, “Thank you.”
“No,” he says, emphatic. “Thank you. You did all of that—you hosted it, you helped. There’s no list of grievances.” Then he sighs, long and pointed. “I mean, besides the fact that you cheated on me. But it’s all in the family so I can accept it.”
I laugh harder. “I’m so relieved.”
He looks to the board with hunger in his eyes. “Want to eat and then come with me to see my girl?”
“I’d love to.”
When we’re done, he grabs a sandwich to go for Cynthia, just like Nick has done for him in the past. I hide my private smile. He’s so much like his father in his love language.
On our way, he stops outside Cosmo’s, his expression suddenly stern. “But let’s just make one thing clear.”
Solemnly, I nod, ready for whatever he wants from me. “Anything.”
“When you marry him, I’m going to have a field day calling you stepmom.”
There’s too much to unpack there, so I zoom in on one thing. “Sure, stepson. Feel free.”
At the hospital, I meet his girlfriend for the first time, and she’s a total sweetie. In short, she’s perfect for him.
She gestures to the makeup brushes. “Now, can you show me how all this stuff works?”
“I definitely can,” I say, and spend the next hour doing her makeup.
45
I HAD A FEELING
Layla
On Sunday morning, I swing my tennis racket over my shoulder and head out the door to meet my mom at the club. Nick leaves with me, his hand on my ass the whole time we walk down the hallway to the elevator.
As we wait for the lift, he turns to me, a playful grin on his face. “Now remember, sweetheart. Just say these words to her. Nick has a bigger, better cock than any man in the world, so stop setting me up.”
“That’s exactly what I was going to say.”
“You can also tell her I give you multiple orgasms,” he deadpans as the elevator arrives.
“I’ll for sure let her know you love to eat my kitty,” I say when we step inside the empty car.
He cups my chin. “Fair’s fair. Tell her you love to suck my dick too.”
Laughing, I say, “How about I just tell her my boyfriend has a filthy mouth and leave it at that?”
“You know who else has a filthy mouth?”
“Who?”
“Your boyfriend’s girlfriend,” he says in a low, sexy voice. He kisses my neck, first adoringly, then roughly like he’s going to leave a mark. So very him.
But I push him away. “No hickeys. That will not impress Mama Mayweather.”
He stops then takes my hand as we leave, his tone turning serious. “Someday, I’ll impress her. For you.”
My chest flutters. Nick doesn’t like to play the who’s who game. He doesn’t need to impress people for himself. He’d only want to make a good impression someday for my benefit. So Mom can breathe more easily, knowing I’m with someone who adores me.
I hold that sentiment close to my heart on the way to Randall’s Island.
On the court, I bounce on my toes, waiting for Mom’s serve. Like she was born to decimate people at this game, she lifts her racket and sends the ball screaming my way.
I lunge, but I don’t stand a chance. The ball flies past me to the edge of the court.
Game. Set. Match.
Beads of sweat roll down my chest as I jog to the net and shake hands with her. “Good game.”
She points her racquet at me. “Tell the truth. Did you let me win again?”
“No. You are just a beast.”
With a closed-mouth smile, she walks to the bench at the side of the court and grabs her water bottle. After a long gulp, she nods to the club. “Shower and lunch?”
I glance around. The court is surprisingly empty. No one’s waiting for it. I seize my chance. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” I say, feeling ready and eager.
It’s time. It’s just finally time.
“Sure. What is it, darling?”
There’s no way to dip a toe into this water. I jump. “I’m not going out with Kip next week. He reached out this morning to set up a time, and I told him I’m seeing someone.”
“You are?”
“Yes. But even if I weren’t seeing him, I don’t want to be set up anymore, Mom. I don’t like any of those guys. They’re all self-centered, egotistical, pampered dude bros.”
She winces, setting down her water bottle on the bench beside the court. “What even is that? A dude bro?”
“The opposite of Dad.” That’s the easiest way to put it.
“I see,” she says calmly, fingering the wedding band she still wears. Maybe it’s subconscious. Maybe it’s intentional—a connection to her lost love. She’s done it for years, touching it absently, when she’s knocked off-kilter.