Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
I don’t have to look at Zeke to know he’s feeling conflicted about Livvie’s sudden understanding of what being with us really entails. On the one hand, fucking finally. We can hash this issue out and get everyone on the same page. This is what Livvie’s mom was worried about, and I guess she had good reason. On the other hand, I hate that Livvie’s innocence is being stripped away.
Her blacklist is short because she genuinely loves people and people respond in kind. She’s the type of girl who thinks that serial killers have a good side. I suppose I should be grateful for that otherwise she probably wouldn’t want to be with someone like me, who’s known for being an unsmiling asshole most of the time.
I wish we could keep her wrapped up in cotton with her rosy glasses shading her vision of this fucked up world with its judgmental people and its stupid-ass rules.
“I can’t marry either of you,” she concludes. “It wouldn’t be fair. We either all get married or none of us get married.”
“You’ll marry Zeke.” We’d already discussed this. Zeke’s the oldest and that shit means something to him. I know in my heart that Livvie’s mine. I don’t need a piece of paper from some clerk in an office to tell me that we’re together.
“What? I can’t just marry Zeke,” our baby girl protests. She points a finger at me. “You’re just going to be the best man or something? That sucks. Let’s move somewhere. There’s got to be a place where we can all get married.”
“Not really,” Zeke says. He leans forward and catches Livvie’s hands between his. “It’s apparently okay in several places for a guy to marry two or more women, but a woman getting together with more than one guy is basically outlawed everywhere. There are a few regions where it’s accepted, but I don’t think our Tibetan union would be recognized by any jail house in this country.”
Zeke started researching this years ago and has all the details, so I let him talk.
“That’s some bullshit.” Livvie presses her lips together in an unhappy line.
“We’re not going to go to jail, so that worry isn’t one you should have. Look, the thing is that there are a lot of shithole people with minds closed tighter than a fist who are going to judge us and, mostly, you.”
The thought of something bad being said about our Livvie makes my blood boil. My fists are going to get a workout if the news of what we did to Frat Boy doesn’t deter the dumbasses here on campus. I wrap my fingers around one fist and crack my knuckles. Livvie looks at my hands and then my grim face.
She tilts her head. “You can’t fight everyone.”
“Maybe I can,” I reply. I’ll fight everyone who hurts her or die trying.
Livvie pulls her hands from Zeke’s grip and gets up. She takes a seat in Zeke’s lap and then grabs one of my fists to press her lips against it. I shiver from the contact.
“You guys. Why do I care what other people think? Do you love me?”
“Of course.” My throat feels scratchy.
“You know we do.”
“Then it doesn’t matter. People can call me a slut—”
“Who the fuck called you a slut?” I roar, straightening to my full six foot five inches. That person is dead.
Livvie recaptures me hand. “Stop it. I’m just saying that if that happened, I’d only be sad because it would hurt you. It doesn’t hurt me. No one’s opinions other than yours and my mom’s make any difference in my life. If you love me and aren’t ever going to want someone else, then that’s all that matters.”
“There’ll never be anyone else,” I say gruffly. If Livvie left tomorrow, I’d die a virgin. There’s not another woman who would move me. I know this for an absolute goddamned fact.
Zeke pulls Livvie up to his chest while she still clings to my hand. “We’ll always love you so you don’t have to worry about that.”
“Then will you kiss me already?” Livvie cries. “I’m dying. My body is literally wasting away from not being touched by you. Look!” She points to her round belly. “I ate a pound of cheese and my food baby is still only in the first trimester.”
I smother a snort of laughter. Zeke’s lips tremble from suppressed laughter.
“It was meant to be funny. You guys can laugh.” She pokes Zeke in the cheek. He breaks, because, how can he resist?
I kneel down and press my face into the hollow of her spine. Fuck, she smells good. Like cherries and spice. I take a deep breath and soak her in. She’s right. All that matters is that we love each other. The details—who gets to marry whom, whose ring she wears on her finger, that sort of shit is all extra. The real important shit is how we feel.