Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Joseph nods mildly, checking the doors to the penthouse again. He’s got more to say. He just doesn’t know how to say it without offending me. “The drink,” he asks.
I fight with everything I have not to visibly tense. “I don’t drink.”
“But you did.”
Fuck Matt, and fuck Ava’s brother. “I have in the past, yes.”
“And now you don’t?”
“It doesn’t agree with me,” I say, feeling like a complete tool. “I mean . . .” I exhale, raking a hand through my hair, wincing at the feel of the tender, damaged skin on my back rubbing against my shirt. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Joseph. Some people can drink and get a buzz. I don’t like the effect alcohol has on me, so I don’t drink it.”
“Because Matt—”
“Told you I’m a raving alcoholic, I know.” I look out at the view again, struggling with this conversation, and really struggling not to tell Ava’s father where to go. Can’t do that. Besides, I like the guy, and everything coming at me now is a lot less than what I would throw if I was in his shoes. Will I ever be in his shoes? I flinch, squeezing my eyes shut, seeing Rosy in the haze of my regrets. Except she’s not a toddler. She’s a young woman. Reminding me I had a chance to be in Joseph’s shoes.
And I blew it. Killed her.
“He also told you I beat him up,” I say. “I didn’t, but I won’t lie and say I’m glad I abstained. He’s a piece of work, and I won’t have him forcing himself on Ava or trying to sabotage what we have.” I’m yet to figure out where the hell Matt got that information from. A raving alcoholic? I laugh under my breath.
“I agree with you there. I never did like him.” He obviously has good sense. I like you even more now, Joseph. His hand appears on the balustrade, his fat fingers wrapping around the metal. “Are you going to give me your number or not?”
I frown, looking down at my mobile in my hand as Joseph holds his up. That’s the end of the conversation. And I’m so good with that. I give him my number and he dials me so I can save his. “We’d better go inside.” I nod to the doors. “It’s getting chilly.” And it sounds like Ava needs saving from her mother.
“One more thing,” Joseph says, stalling me. I look back. “The wedding.”
“What about it?”
“Well.” He shifts a little, looking uncomfortable, and everything inside me cools. “I’d like to contribute.”
“What?” Oh God. “Jesus, no, Joseph, that’s really not necessary.” I laugh, uncomfortable. “It’s taken care of.” I can’t take his money.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist, Jesse. She’s my little girl. My only girl. It’s traditional for the father to pay for the wedding, but I realize you both probably have elaborate plans that will exceed any budget I could offer, so perhaps you’ll graciously accept my proposal to take care of the bar bill.” His eyebrows rise, and I smile.
“That’s very kind of you, Joseph. I will very graciously accept.” I hold out my hand and he takes it, shaking. “Thank you.”
He waves me off. “Last thing.”
Oh? What now?
“Let’s just keep this arrangement to ourselves, okay? Man to man.”
I laugh and slap his shoulder, holding my palm there as we wander into the penthouse. “Fine by me,” I agree, knowing Ava won’t be at all comfortable with her father using some of their retirement fund to pay for the bar at our wedding. The Manor’s not cheap, and neither are the drinks. Not that Joseph will know the prices. I’ll ensure he gets an invoice that’s substantially lower, probably closer to wholesale price, if only to ensure his pride is kept intact. Besides, family gets a ninety percent discount.
We find Ava and Elizabeth on the couch, both with glasses of wine in their hands. Ava’s hardly touched hers. Why? I eye it as I approach.
“Ah, here they are,” Elizabeth sings, patting the cushion beside her for Joseph to take.
I pull my trousers up at my knees and lower next to Ava. Joseph is right. She’s looking a bit peaky. “Are you all right?” I ask, getting a quick, unconvincing nod as she sips her wine. She wouldn’t drink if she knew she was pregnant. Would she? Not that she’s really drinking. More dipping her tongue.
“Are you?” she counters, eyes on me, watching for my reaction to her question.
“Yes.” I smile, pushing away the conversation I had with John earlier this evening, and of which Ava caught the tail end of. Or, at least, caught my expression, which I’m sure was full of dread. To know that not only has Sarah made overt attempts to convince me I shouldn’t be with Ava but has also been manipulating and orchestrating events to make Ava run from me? And nearly succeeded? I’m fuming. “I’m fine,” I say, taking Ava’s knee and squeezing. “What have you been talking about with your mother?” I see it in Ava immediately. Trepidation.