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)
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not having you in a bed that others have”—she knows exactly why, for Christ’s sake—“frequented.”
She appears to snuggle deeper. “And no one has been in this room since me?”
“Only me,” I say, nodding to her body. “Get your underwear off, I want you naked.”
“Did you sit in here quietly and think about me?” She fails to keep her grin in check as she wriggles out of her knickers.
Oh, if she only knew. I drop my boxers and wander over to the chest of drawers, pulling one open and plucking out her bra. “More than you know.”
“That’s my bra,” she gasps, her eyes following it through the air as I toss it onto the cabinet.
I get into bed with her, and she's all over me like a rash immediately. “Comfy?” I whisper, following the path of her hands as they travel my chest, hearing her hum her answer. “How do you feel?”
“I’m fine.”
My sigh collides with Ava’s, and I pull her closer, hug her harder. “She’s fine.” If I could only make her see that she really will be fine. Because I’ve got her. Always. “Go to sleep, my beautiful girl.”
And maybe in the morning she’ll see the light.
The hope.
Maybe.
Her eyes are getting heavy, her lips parting. It’s been a long day. Certainly unforgettable. For the right reasons? Not really. And, worryingly, I’m not all that confident about tomorrow, because I’m not willing to let another day pass without us finding out if my wife is expecting our first baby.
Our first.
Ava’s first.
Not my first.
My throat becomes thick, my hold of Ava naturally tightening. “I’m not replacing you,” I whisper, staring at the sheet covering our bodies.
Then what are you doing, Daddy?
“Searching for redemption, my darling.”
You don’t need redeeming.
“Oh, but I do.” I smile, swallowing over a lump. “I wish I still had you.”
Uncle Jake’s looking after me.
I feel a tear fall, and I release one arm from around Ava and roughly wipe at my eyes. “That’s good,” I muse, smiling through my trembling lips. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
Sometimes.
I laugh under my breath, feeling Ava stir in my arms. I watch her relax on a sigh. “Do you think I’ve—”
Fucked this up?
I blink, jolt, scowl at nothing before me. “Watch your damn mouth.” I look around the room, coming into myself a little. I swear, I hear her laughing. Is this my thing now? Talking to dead people? I still, quiet, waiting for her to come back at me. Wishing she would. “Jesus Christ,” I breathe, shaking my head to myself. I’m certifiably fucking loopy.
I ease Ava off me and gently break away, settling her on the sheets, getting up and going to the bathroom. I go straight to the mirror. Stare at myself. Question myself.
Worry for myself.
But I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.
I hope.
“Fucking hell.” I cup my face with my palms and scrub them down my cheeks. Crazy.
I use the toilet, wash my hands, and pad back to the bed, stalling halfway across the room when someone knocks on the door gently. Given I’m naked, I look around the room for my boxers. I find them on the floor by the bed and quickly get into them, checking Ava. She’s out for the count.
I pull the door open a fraction.
Recoil when I see who’s calling.
I look over my shoulder to Ava before slipping out and pulling the door shut behind me. “What can I do for you?” I ask, my tone unfriendly. He can’t expect anything else.
He sways a bit, and I fear the worst. A flying fist, a yell, a threat. So when he says, “I haven’t given you a chance to prove yourself.” I find myself taking a wary step back.
I want to laugh, but instead I cough, disguising it. “Prove myself? What, to you?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s only one person in this world I need to prove myself to, and it isn’t you, Dan.”
He shrugs, pouting, rolling back on his heels. “And you’ve proved yourself, have you?”
I frown. “Did you come here to pick another fight, because it’s been a really fucking long day, and I haven’t the energy.” But come back in the morning when I’m dressed, fresh, and all our guests have left The Manor. I’ll happily fuck you up then.
“I just want her to be happy.”
“Does she seem unhappy?”
“Yes, actually.”
As much as it pains me, this arrogant prick is my wife’s brother and—ouch—he’s known her a hell of a lot longer than I have. But as deeply? I don’t think so. I think Dan’s too wrapped up in his own world to know exactly what’s going on in anyone else’s, including his sister’s. He’s just acting out. Letting his ego out to play. “Let me assure you of a thing or two,” I say, my hand clenching the doorknob. It’s that or Dan’s throat. Can’t do that. “My wife is perfectly happy.” A man does not need another man—brother or not—asking him if he can make his wife happy.