Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“You can tell the HOA, they can kiss my—"
“Thanks, Tenly. We’ll figure something out,” Flynn interrupts, stepping between them, motioning for Owen to let it be.
“So, Rain, I heard you invited Melanie Grady to this little shindig.” Resting one arm on the counter, her sharp brow raised, Tenly says, “I’ve invited her to every event. I can tell you now, she never attends.”
“How come?” I get that she’s a busy mom, but the idea that she doesn’t ever come to a celebration is perturbing. Is something wrong with her? Does she not like it here?
She scoffs, taking the glass of wine Heston just poured. “I think she has some illness or something.”
“I think she’s pregnant again,” Flynn says.
“Pregnant?” I ask, turning toward him, alarmed at the thought of Melanie having another baby when she already has her hands full.
“Enough about Melanie, let me see that rock again,” Owen says with a growl, like we’re looking at hot men parading around my finger. I hold my hand out, and he lifts it, inspecting my ring with one eye.
“Damn, that’s pretty. You did good, Heston.”
Tenly walks over and takes my hand, turning it left and right.
“It looks too big. Does it fit?”
My eyes snap to Heston. He looks back at me with worry riding the tide of his ocean blue eyes.
“Is it okay?” he asks nervously, grabbing my hand to inspect it. I didn’t want to say anything because I know he worked hard picking it out and the little wiggle room is fine.
I open my mouth to say just that when Owen cuts in, “Girl, after he knocks you up with three kids, it’ll fit fine.” At a loss of words, I just stand in front of them with my mouth wide open.
Flynn laughs, and I can’t help but join in. Slowly pulling my hand from Heston’s, I place it on his shoulder.
“Oooh, are you guys going to try?” Tenly asks, rubbing her chest, her bright eyes looking between me and Heston. It kills me. She wants to be a mom so badly, and every cycle that passes, still no positive test.
“Um…it’s come up, but we haven’t really said we’re ready for that,” I sputter out. Looking at Heston, who is staring back at me, we both silently watch for each other’s reaction. I stay silent and hope he can tell them better than I that us conceiving is not in God’s plan.
“I wouldn’t mind a few extra kiddos running around,” Heston tells the group, and my eyes widen. I can’t have kids, I’ve told him that! Does he want to have a baby and he’s stayed silent this whole time? Besides, we can’t even agree on how to raise Paige, how the hell would we be with a baby?
“So, Tenly, how’s everything for the block party going?” Flynn asks, and I’m thankful for the change in subject.
“Great. I think Asher is going to be able to make it!” Her face glows, talking about her husband.
“Yes! That would make it that much sweeter!” Owen starts to fangirl, and I catch Heston quietly slipping off into the other room. I wonder if he’s okay. Did I say something wrong about having babies? Ridding my head of the thoughts, I tell myself he’s just going to the bathroom and it’s not him running away. We’re engaged now; he’s proven he’s here with me and in it for the long haul. I should go join him in the bathroom. I’m not saying sex will fix whatever is going on, but it will calm me down. Plus, everyone being here is reckless and even more of a turn on.
A loud rumble from outside silents Owen and Tenly’s chatter, all of us looking to the windows to catch a glimpse of what’s making that unfamiliar sound.
“Is that a motorcycle?” Flynn asks, perking up in excitement.
“Nobody has a motorcycle I know of,” Owen says, a confused look on his face. Flynn opens the door and walks out. Owen and Tenly follow, and I lag behind. A matte black Harley follows a moving truck, the rider’s, whose long black hair flows freely behind him, is wearing jeans and a black tank that shows off his dark tan skin and his tattooed-covered arms.
“Looks like someone’s moving into the murder house,” Owen mumbles.
“You think he knows about the killings?” I ask.
“He has to, they have to tell him before he buys it,” Tenly adds.
“Maybe he’s into that sorta thing.” Owen lifts his chin, crossing his arms. Two things pop into my head, devil-worshipper or one of those people who investigate haunted houses.
Two movers get out of the truck as the guy on the Harley pulls in behind it, shuts the bike off and dismounts, before walking over to talk to them. Tenly looks down the street where he came from, and I raise a brow.