Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Wait, what? My sisters?
“What did they say to him?” I pulled away from her again and willed my brain to fucking think. Or process. But I couldn’t. This came out of nowhere, all the while…
Aw, fuck.
You knew the ingredients were incompatible and hoped that the final result was going to be good.
“I genuinely don’t remember,” Mom replied. “It was a long time ago—but I told them to be nice.”
Alfie’s texts came back to me. More specifically, the part where he’d pleaded with me to admit that I’d dismissed him the times he’d said he didn’t think my family liked him. It made me fucking sick. What if he was right? What if I’d ignored him? And what the hell had my sisters told him?
Actually, did I really need to know? Because when push came to shove, I knew why I didn’t particularly like them. I knew how catty they could be. I knew they’d bullied others throughout high school. I knew they talked a lot of shit.
Screw this, I was going home.
“Where are you going?” Mom asked worriedly.
“Home.” I walked back inside and ignored when she called out for me.
“I want you to meet my family…” Part of me couldn’t believe I’d said it, while the other part remained calm and certain.
He was fucking it for me. This crude young guy had trapped me completely.
He grinned crookedly and sat down on my stomach, the covers pooling around his body.
His delectable fucking body…
I couldn’t get enough of him.
“Do you hate your family, papi?” he chuckled.
I laughed quietly and watched my hands roam his thighs, up his hips and sides, and I let out a long breath.
My little hellion.
The faster we made things official for our families, the sooner I could ask him to move in with me.
Some might call it a whirlwind romance. We’d been at it almost nonstop for five months, and I hated spending a single night without him. Which would’ve bothered me more if he hadn’t felt the same way. But it looked like I’d found a guy who didn’t struggle expressing himself. He was so affectionate and sweet behind his armor of cockiness.
“There’s no rush,” I made sure to add. “I wouldn’t wanna subject you to my family during the holidays. But after…? We could fly out together for a weekend.”
He nodded slowly, tracing his fingers over my chest. “Yeah. We could do that.” He smirked a little. “I already told my ma about’chu.”
I smiled. “Oh yeah?”
He nodded again, and he dipped down and kissed me. “I said…Ma, can you fuckin’ believe it? I’m in love.” He made me shiver with that one. “I met a man from Philly in Tinseltown.”
I chuckled and deepened the kiss. “I love you an absurd amount, baby.”
I drained my whiskey and left the glass in the sink.
Maybe we’d struck gold when our plans had changed drastically—numerous times. From the moment we’d decided to meet each other’s parents, we waited two whole years for it to actually happen. Almost as if the universe was trying to tell us something—an engagement or issue always interfered. I was promoted and had to work more, Alfie landed a big modeling gig, my parents were out of the country on a long vacation, his parents came down with the flu, I had a work trip, Alfie had to cover for his boss at the bar, it just wasn’t the right time…
When we finally managed to get on a plane together, we were engaged and had already decided to look into surrogacy soon. We’d been living together. We’d had our whole lives planned out.
Was I ever going to stop mourning our shattered dreams?
When Alfie said everything in LA had been real, I was desperate to believe him. I knew what he meant; I knew the core of us had been genuine. Even when we’d moved back here. I wasn’t so jaded to think everything was a lie. Although, it felt like it sometimes.
If he hadn’t cared, he wouldn’t have sent me those messages with such urgency for me to understand that his heart had been in the right place.
I wasn’t sure it mattered.
Right now, I was too exhausted to care one way or another.
Could you hate a liar if he’d felt forced to lie?
Oh, I could. Even if I ended up owing him a dozen apologies, he’d kept too much from me.
I trudged up the stairs after shutting off the lights and activating the alarm system, and I avoided looking at our photo wall. My photo wall. Not ours. Just our kids. Some of my nieces and nephews. My side of the family. Not his.
We could put the whole family bullshit aside. I was mature enough to understand ripple effects and how circumstances could cause disasters. He wasn’t innocent, and I wasn’t either. Fine. But his job? How the hell could he move out here with me, with our family, and accept a job with a goddamn mobster?