Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
When I stepped into the kitchen, it felt normal. Like I had just been here yesterday, doing the same thing. The array of food that lined the counter was typical as well. Except…I walked over to study it. Huh. They’d added some things. Items none of them had been eating in the great room. The salad looked appealing. Spinach with pecans and strawberries. I wondered what the glaze was.
I found a new jar of olives in the pantry. I opened them, got out three, and plopped them into my cocktail, then took a big gulp. I stood there as the third martini started to work some magic on my empty stomach. There was a slight buzz. I waited. Expecting the numbing to come so the pain in my chest would ease.
Jude’s smile—the sexy one he had when he was thinking about naughty things—flashed through my head, and I groaned. Not numbing. Just tipsy. Sighing, I grabbed a fork and pulled out a barstool in front of the salad, not bothering with a plate. I didn’t want to go back in there and listen to the guys and their game. This was only one of two games tonight. Yay for me.
I stuck my fork into the salad bowl and made sure to get strawberry and pecan on it before shoving it into my mouth. A sweet glaze coated the spinach, but I had no idea what it was. Not bad. I chewed, staring at the cabinets.
It was Friday night. Men’s Bible study would be over. Was he home alone? Did he want to text me?
I shook my head and took a drink. I was pathetic.
“Oh.”
The feminine voice broke into my thoughts.
I picked up the stick with my three olives and pulled one off with my teeth. Seemed it was time. I was meeting the other woman. Crosby’s first choice. Setting my glass down, I turned to look at her as I chewed the vodka-soaked olive in my mouth.
We looked nothing alike. She was a brunette with blue eyes. I might trade blue eye colors with her, if that were possible. Hers were definitely more unique. She was beautiful, but I had expected that. The girl had gotten both Cash boys to fall in love with her. Both pretty damn fast too. If Gathe had told me the truth, then Crosby had only been seeing her for a little over a month when he was killed. Bane had been hot after her within two months’ time, even though she was pregnant with his dead brother’s baby.
She was standing there, staring at me, nervous, uncertain, like she was considering bolting.
No need, Crosby’s Number One. I don’t care anymore. I have beef with God now. Not you.
“So, we finally meet,” I said, holding up my glass to her in a salute. Not sure why I had done it, but the vodka might have had something to do with it. “Please, don’t run off. I’m just eating this salad, having a drink, and thinking I should have stayed home and watched Netflix.”
I took another drink, watching her over the rim. She still looked like she might turn and run. What had they told the girl? Scratch that. I didn’t want to know. It would piss me off, and I was already dealing with too much shit to add pissed off to the list.
“Seriously, come in. Get whatever you need. Heck, fix a drink and sit. The great room is filled with pointless noise over a basketball game that has no real relevance or impact on any of their lives, yet they are cheering and shouting at the screen as if it does.”
She walked farther inside, dropping her gaze to the ground and biting her bottom lip. Was she always so timid? This was her house now. She should act like it. It sure as shit wasn’t mine.
Girl, get a backbone. Own it.
“Halo,” I said, “you’re gonna need to loosen up. Gathe won’t leave me the hell alone about coming over here. Being a part of things again. So, here I am. And here you are. Let me ease your mind. I don’t care that Crosby cheated on me with you. I also know you didn’t know about me. Okay, I cared before. Yes, it hurt. But I’m over it. Right now, I’m the other woman. The man I want, his number one is God or Jesus. Are they the same? I don’t know. Are you Catholic by chance? Because if you are, I have some questions.”
She was looking at me now instead of at the floor, and the corner of her lips was almost curving up. It wasn’t a smile exactly, but at least her body wasn’t so tensed up anymore. She had relaxed and might not take off sprinting for safety.
“I, uh…no, I’m not Catholic or religious. But I do believe that God is the father and Jesus is the son. The Christmas thing—Jesus was born. Then, there is Easter, where he rose from the dead and went to heaven to sit by God. Something like that.”