Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Instead of going back to my hotel, I find myself at my parents’ house, knocking on their door. Yes, knocking on their door, because at any given time, they could be naked since they can’t keep their hands off each other.
Mom answers the door with a wide smile on her face. She’s still dressed in her work clothes—a smart pantsuit and heels—her brown hair up in one of those tight bun things, making her look every bit the shrewd businesswoman she is.
“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” she says, pulling me in for a warm hug. Alicia Blackwood can be a hard-ass. When she’s at work, she runs a tight ship as the VP of Blackwood Records, next to my dad, who is the president. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, saying it’s ten times harder for a woman to get the respect she deserves. But as a mom, she’s the complete opposite. Warm and comforting. She’s the definition of home.
“I need to talk to you and Dad.”
She opens the door so I can go in. “Sean, Easton is here and needs to talk to us.”
Moments later, my sister and Jordan appear, along with my dad. “What’s going on?” Nicole asks, concern etched in her features. I didn’t know she and Jordan were here, but I guess it’s for the best. I can tell everyone at once.
“I’m starved,” Dad says, already dressed down in a white Blackwood Records long-sleeved shirt and black sweats. “Can we talk over dinner?”
“Why wasn’t I invited to dinner?” I ask with a pout, as we walk into the kitchen and I smell Mom’s famous empanadas. She’s Venezuelan, moved to California with her family when she was ten. Even though she’s lived in the U.S. for the majority of her life, she loves to make dishes from where she’s from, dishes her mom used to make when she was alive, and none of us complain one bit, because those dishes are delicious as hell.
“You were,” she says. “Check your phone.” I pull it out and sure enough, there’s a group text with her inviting everyone to dinner.
“My bad. I was meeting with someone, which is what I need to talk to you guys about.” I help Mom finish placing the food on the table then we all have a seat. Everyone goes about making their plates of food, and I waste no time grabbing several empanadas and loading my plate up with some beans and rice.
“Hey, save some for us,” Jordan says, snatching the spoon for the rice from me.
I take a huge bite of food and moan at the deliciousness.
Everyone eats in blissful silence for a few minutes before Dad speaks up. “What did you need to talk to us about, Son?”
I swallow my food and take a sip of my water to wash it down. “A few months back, while I was in town visiting for Dad’s birthday, I met a woman.”
Mom’s gaze swings over at me, her food forgotten.
Nicole smiles knowingly.
My dad and Jordan keep eating.
“I kind of, umm…” I clear my throat. “I got her pregnant.”
Mom and Nicole gasp, and Jordan’s and Dad’s jaws drop.
“You did what?” Mom yells, before she starts going off on me in Spanish. I don’t know everything she’s saying, but I have no doubt she’s cursing me to hell.
“What were you thinking?” Dad asks, running his hand along his face.
“You didn’t mention you slept with her,” Nicole adds.
“You knew about this?” Mom’s gaze darts over to my sister.
“I knew he met someone,” she says. “They took photos together that were spread all over social media.”
“Oh Lord,” Mom groans. “You took pictures with her? What were you thinking?”
“Not those kind of photos,” I clarify. “We had all our clothes on.”
“So what does she want?” Dad asks, going into manager mode. “And are you sure you’re the dad? You’re going to need to get a paternity test.”
“I’ll make an appointment with Daniel,” Nicole says, already typing away on her phone. Daniel is the family’s personal attorney. The label has a firm on retainer, but because it could be seen as a conflict of interest, we use a separate firm for our personal needs.
“She doesn’t want anything,” I tell them. Eight pairs of eyes land on me, all displaying various looks of disbelief. And I get it, in the world we live in, everyone wants something—but Sophia isn’t from our world and she’s different. Don’t ask me how I know that when I’ve only met her twice, but I can feel it.
“Is that why she was looking for you?” Nicole asks.
“She was looking for you?” Mom’s brows knit together in confusion.
“She didn’t know who I was when we… had sex, and now that she does, I don’t think she’s too pleased. When she told me, she flat out said she doesn’t expect me to be in the baby’s life and that she’s fine with that. When I offered her some money, she yelled at me and pretty much told me where I could shove it. She also asked me not to tell anyone about the pregnancy.”