Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
I’m not going to justify jack shit to this guy. Neither Liv nor I owe him a damn fucking thing.
Her father, on the other hand . . . “You dating my daughter doesn’t give you the right to make claims over my grandson, the grandchild who carries my last name.”
“You’re right,” I start. “Dating your daughter doesn’t give me that right.” I temper what I want to say because again, they aren’t owed any part of our lives—past or present. But in my defense . . . “Fathering her child does.”
“What are you talking about, Westcott? And you better choose your words wisely.”
Liv’s framed diploma shattered on the floor brings things into perspective. Bending down, I gather the things that fell from the box and stand up again. “You’ve wasted so many chances to be in that amazing woman’s life. You’ll never be given that opportunity again. And I hope you got a good fucking look at our son because it will be over my dead body that you ever see him again.” I start to leave but then turn back once more. I flip my middle finger right the fuck up, holding it steady in front of his face, and say, “Consider this my two weeks’ notice.”
I see Leanna across the room, giving her a slight lift of my hand from the box as a goodbye as I leave. Audrina holds the door open for me, and I say, “Thanks.”
“Good luck to you and Liv.”
“Thanks.”
Liv, Max, and Cassandra are standing in the lobby. Liv smiles when she sees me, weakened by the toll the morning has taken, and then shrugs. “So much for fast getaways.” The elevator chimes, signaling its arrival. She laughs. “Figures.”
We load on, and as the doors close, she sees the box. “Thanks for getting that.” There’s not much in it, but she’s eyeing the items. “That’s all I have after eleven years of working here.”
“Stuff doesn’t matter,” I say. “It’s the experience. The right to look back and know that this place brought us together again.”
Coming to stand next to me, she leans her head on my shoulder and releases a breath. “I have no job, no money, no father.”
I reach over and hold her against me. Kissing her head, I keep my mouth close to her. “You have Max. You have me—”
“And me,” Cassandra says, raising a hand.
I catch Liv in the reflection smiling. She reaches out, and Cassandra takes her hand. “Thank you. You have us, too.” Their hands fall apart after a few seconds of needed reassurance.
Liv’s eyes find mine in the mirrored doors, and she asks, “How will we survive?”
I turn her chin and angle so we’re looking at each other. Anchoring the box under one arm, I touch her scarred eyebrow with my free hand. I run the tip of my finger across it several times and leave a kiss there. “You’ve been left adrift at sea before, and you survived. You’ll survive this, too. We will. Together this time.”
The elevator dings, opening onto a lower floor. A guy I recognize steps into the elevator, all big teeth and bigger grin. “Hey, remember me. Halden Myers? Olivia, right?”
Fuck me.
This guy again.
He snaps his fingers and points at me. “And Noah.”
“Yep,” I reply, not in the mood for this. “Look, buddy, when we met—”
“Halden. Nice to meet you,” he says to Cassandra.
She perks up. “Cassandra Simons.”
With my arm still around Liv, I decide to shut my mouth and let this play out.
By the time we reach the sidewalk, they’ve exchanged numbers and set up a date. Guess he’s not so bad after all.
After ordering an SUV to take us home, Cassandra says, “I really am sorry about coming here.” She digs a phone out of her backpack. “I found Liv’s phone in Max’s bag and thought you might need it.” She hands the phone to Liv.
That would explain her not replying to my texts, though I think other reasons would have stopped her even if she’d had it in that meeting.
Liv says, “Thank you. And as for coming there, you didn’t know not to because I never told you how . . . how messy my work-life situation was. I didn’t want to involve other people unnecessarily.”
The SUV pulls to the curb, and we load inside. On the way back to the apartment, they talk while I text Loch everything that just happened.
He texts my entire family’s group:
Westcott FM statim.
“Noah?” I look at Liv, and she asks, “Are we going to be okay?”
I reach over, cradling her knee in the palm of my hand. “We’re going to be fine. I promise.”
“Isn’t stat short for statim in Latin?”
Loch’s code is our family’s secret phrase. It’s to the point without being too obvious. If you know, you know, though. Glancing back at the text, I reply, “Yes.”