Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
The badass bikers conceded to her order.
I smiled at the easy and natural interaction between each of the couples. I’d never seen anything like it. And I couldn’t get used to it, seeing people truly, genuinely in love.
“So?” Macy asked once the men left. “Do you like it?”
“Like it?” I repeated, looking around. “Like is not a word that works in this scenario. I’m speechless.”
She smiled softly. “That’s kind of what I was going for. We were going to have a big party here for a surprise, but then you got out early… I think this works better, though, honestly.”
I agreed. There was no way I would’ve been able to handle all of this with more people present. I was finding it hard to stand as it was.
“I can’t, I can’t accept this,” I stuttered, looking around the room, staring at the double doors that looked out onto the patio. The cloudless sky stretched on forever. Or at least to the mountains in the distance.
“Of course you can,” Macy replied. “Because I’m forcing you to accept it.”
I stared at her. “I’ll pay you rent. I insist on that.” I thought of the jewelry that might still be in the motel room I’d completely forgotten about. If it wasn’t, I was totally broke. Well, I had some cash I’d saved from the café. It was a decent amount since Swiss had never let me pay for anything, but it wasn’t enough to pay rent indefinitely.
If Swiss did respect my wishes, I’d be looking at a long divorce where I most likely wouldn’t see a dime for a while. If I saw anything.
I’d signed a prenup. I hadn’t thought anything of it, sixteen and pregnant.
And my injuries meant I wouldn’t be working at the café for a while.
Macy waved her hand at me. “You cook me dinner when you’re better, we’re square.”
I shook my head. “No, I cannot pay rent by cooking you dinner.”
She returned the brow raise. “Uh, have you tried your beef Wellington? You could buy a lot with that. You could buy our house.”
I stared at Macy, then Caroline and Freya. Three women who hadn’t hesitated to welcome me into the fold, who’d stepped up when I needed them. Three incredibly strong, badass women who didn’t seem to be afraid of anything.
“Do you think differently of me?” It took a lot of strength to push out the words, my voice low, full of shame.
Macy blinked.
Caroline stopped arranging flowers on the breakfast bar to turn her eyes to me. “What do you mean?”
“Now that you know about who I am. Who I truly am.”
Caroline kept watching me intently but didn’t say anything, didn’t ask another follow up question. She had a way about her that seemed to communicate she was comfortable in that silence. That she was happy to bathe in it for as long as it took me to be uncomfortable and blurt out more words.
A journalistic trait, I assumed. A really fricking good one.
“Your job had you working in warzones,” I addressed Caroline. “You were one of the only women reporters in a dangerous, high stress job. One most men wouldn’t be able to handle. Yet you handled it. All while mourning the man you’d thought you lost.”
My eyes moved to Macy. “You have a past that breaks my heart. One that could’ve easily turned you into a bitter, angry person. Instead, you created a family. You are the head of that family.”
Now it was Freya’s turn. “The world tried to break you in the worst of ways. Many times. Yet you found a family. Created a home. A fricking empire, all on your own.”
“You are three of the strongest women I’ve ever met in my life. Three of the strongest people,” I corrected.
The women were staring at me intently.
“Yet I couldn’t do something as simple as leave the man who was beating me,” I whispered.
Caroline was the first to respond. Probably due to her previous job, she was used to processing things quickly, coming up with a response, a follow up.
“Honey, leaving a man who is beating you is the furthest thing from simple.” Her voice was firm. Sure. “And it has absolutely nothing to do with strength.”
“Living through that for the amount of time you did, being able to be kind, trusting, loving, to bring up your daughter… That takes strength,” Freya added, her eyes shimmering.
“And though I did a great job of making it look differently, I did not handle being over there in the middle of warzones well,” Caroline shared. “I survived it, sure. But I broke down in my hotel room countless times after interviewing women who were beaten, raped, who walked miles carrying a dead child. Seeing what humans do to one another,” she shivered. “I still have nightmares about it. But that’s how we know we’re human. That we carry around our wounds, that they define us. They can either make us softer or harder.” Her gaze gentled. “Please don’t measure yourself up against what you see in us right now. It’s taken us years to get to the places you see. It’s taken finding our men, for me the second time,” she grinned. “And it’s taken a fight. For this life. We’ve fought. Just like you. And you’re finally coming out the other side.”