Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
“I know I can!” I exclaimed. “I often had to cook for cousins, so I’m good with large groups and hearty food,” I said. “I can stretch a dollar to feed twenty men if I have to.”
She liked the sound of that and nodded. “Right then. You’ll be an assistant to Rosie, our head chef. Wages are $200 per week plus room and board. What are you going to do with your boy while you work?” she asked.
“Is … is there day care around here?” I asked timidly.
“There ain’t no formal daycare, but Miss Lyons across the street takes children into her home for a few hours a day. Why don’t you ask there?”
Fortunately, everything had been settled. Georgie and I moved into our own room in the boarding house. Miss Lyons miraculously had a slot open, and I dropped Georgie off each morning before starting my shift in the kitchen. It was hard work, but I wasn’t above honest employ. I’d started washing dishes and chopping vegetables, but Miss Rosie now trusted me with desserts and breads, even if I hadn’t moved onto the main course yet.
But we were a happy bunch. My little boy smiled at me once again and I scooped him up in my arms. We’d have a new addition soon, and I could feel the baby beginning to stir.
19
Liam
The discovery that Alison was gone filled me with grief. I’d sunk into a deep depression upon returning home and realizing that her small satchel had disappeared, the only traces of her the echoes of laughter in the empty apartment.
And she’d taken my son again. I’d fallen in love with Georgie during our brief acquaintance, the little boy an image of me that could not be denied. I was hell bent on dragging them back, but knew that my Wildflower would only run again. She’d run once before, and my beautiful bride would continue to run so long as she didn’t feel safe.
I’d been incandescent with anger at the interruption to our wedding. I’d already destroyed Sabrina through a few well-placed phone calls. She’d never be welcome at the elite clubs and social gatherings that were everything to a bitch with her fucked-up values.
But how the fuck had Sabrina located Alison’s birth certificate? Sabrina was crafty, but certainly not hard-working enough to mine the musty storage rooms of the New York City Register. I’d interviewed everyone on my staff but discovered no leak. It was only ruminating in the dark confines of my office that I realized there was someone I’d never spoken to: Alison’s mom.
I’d driven out to the Bronx, intent on confrontation. It was this bitch who must have spoiled our union, with Sabrina as her pawn. I’d pounded on the door to a derelict house, the paint peeling and shutters drooping from their hinges. I’d expected to see someone rundown and aged, but the woman who’d opened the door had been unexpectedly beautiful, with a strong resemblance to her daughter. Her blonde hair was faded, but swept into an elegant updo, and she wore a cashmere sweater even if there were holes at the elbows.
She knew who I was immediately.
“Liam Miller,” she greeted. “I wondered when you’d piece two and two together.”
I’d barreled into her home, the interior shabby and makeshift. But somehow, I couldn’t look down on it. This was where my wildflower had grown up, and I couldn’t make fun of her past, even as I wanted to burn the place down.
“Tell me where she is,” I growled.
“I don’t know,” said Lilly Johnson. “Don’t you?” she looked at me questioningly. I’d set detectives on Alison’s trail, but hadn’t been able to pin her location yet. All I knew was that she was somewhere out west, with my baby in tow.
“Why did you do it?” I growled, not even bothering to re-hash the unfortunate turn of events.
“Ah, your wedding,” said Lilly slowly. “Before I get into that, Liam, let me tell you a bit about Alison’s life here. Have you any idea what it was like for her to grow up in the Bronx? Look around you. I raised my daughter here, scraping by without a penny to spare, while you, your mother, and your sister lived in the lap of luxury. My Alison had nothing, while you and your family had everything,” she said bitterly.
“You’re jealous of us?” I asked disbelievingly. “You should blame Robert Woodson,” I said roughly. “He’s the one who left you.” My stepfather was Alison’s biological dad, and had deserted Lilly when he’d found out she was pregnant.
“I don’t blame Robert for leaving,” she said. “But it was the fact that he forgot about us. He didn’t care about his own daughter. He didn’t send a penny our way, instead lavishing his riches on you and your sister.”
I stopped short. “Lady, you’ve got this all wrong. I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but the family wealth comes from my family, and not Robert.”