Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
When she takes a step closer, I raise my hands just in front of me. “We’re good, Lorie, if you keep some distance.”
Her head jolts back in offense. “Like I’m the one who’s causing drama?”
Marlow moves beside me and takes my hand, standing as a united front. She replies, “I didn’t make a list or submit any names. If you’re not allowed in, that’s my dad’s request.”
Her gaze volleys between the hospital and us a few times before she says, “I’ll talk to my lawyer.”
“Probably best.” Turning to me, Marlow asks, “Where are we parked?”
I help her out of that mess the best I can, but we both look back to make sure Lorie’s not following us.
As we walk into the parking garage, I don’t know where our relationship stands exactly, but I won’t tempt the fates. I have her hand in mine, but I can only hope I still hold her heart.
31
Marlow
“Daddy.” I rush to his side and take his hand, careful not to rattle the bed.
“Hi, Princess.”
I grin, sort of embarrassed by the nickname I used to adore. Back then, it had a different meaning, like those booty shorts that spell spoiled. I used to own every ounce of the titles. Now, I’d rather be known for other traits like clever. Resourceful. Scrappy like my dad. But it’s my dad calling me princess, and there was a chance that I would never hear it again, so I’m not complaining to him.
Jackson stands near the door, looking like a kid showing up to date my dad’s daughter. One hand is tucked in his pocket, and one raised just enough to wave to my father. “Hi, Mr. Marché.” They’ve met a handful of times over the years when he came into town and hung out with us.
“Jackson.”
My dad’s gaze returns to me, and he asks, “Why is he here? Did you bring your friends with you to watch the old man kick the bucket?” He chuckles at his joke but then wheezes in pain. When he catches his breath, he adds, “I wouldn’t blame you. I’ve been a real—”
“Let’s not talk about that.” Everything took longer than they predicted, but just after eight, I received the call that I could visit. Not sure how many speed limits Jackson broke getting me here in the Lamborghini, but it had to be record speed.
My dad says, “I want to, Marlow. I need to. I owe you an apology. Greed is a gregarious little devil, drawing you in so deep until its claws get ahold of you.”
Though the analogy is so dark, I see his dramatic side hasn’t been affected by the surgery. I rub his arm and smile. “Once a filmmaker, always a filmmaker.”
“Till my dying day.”
I almost correct him but then stop. Instead, I choose my words wiser. “We have no say when we leave this world. We only have the good deeds we leave behind.”
He grins, his hand reaching to touch my cheek. “That was the first movie set I ever took you to. You were a baby, and Barbara, the leading lady, was enamored with you. She won an Oscar for that role, but I never heard that line delivered so beautifully until now.”
“Wasn’t she the reason Mom left you?”
“One of many. I fucked up a lot.” His eyes study me as if he’s looking for the resemblance. It’s not hard to find. “Talia deserved better and took me for almost every dime. I got you out of the deal, so I’d say I came out the real winner.” Seemingly satisfied, he lowers his arm to the bed and looks at Jackson again. “Get in here or get out but stop hovering around the door.” He comes to the other side of the bed from me.
We catch eyes before Jackson asks, “Is it wrong to ask how you’re feeling?”
“You can ask, but you never did tell me what you’re doing here. That leads me to believe you’re not here for me. You’re here for my daughter.” Jackson chuckles lightly, but then nods. “Why do I get the impression it’s not for moral support?”
It’s an uncomfortable conversation to be having while he’s in the hospital with every minute I get with him a new, unexpected gift.
“I’m here however Marlow needs me to be.”
My dad laughs, the bellow loud, but then the wheezing begins again. He pats Jackson’s arm and says, “That’s exactly what you should say, son.” Tugging on his sleeve, he says, “Come closer, and I want you to listen to me.”
Jackson moves in a little more. My dad says, “Don’t fuck up like I did. Marlow is my princess. Whether you’re dating my daughter or you marry her, she’s your queen. You understand?”
He’s nodding, but I swear I hear Jackson gulp. “I do.”
“You’ve always been a good kid. Don’t make me come back from the bowels of hell to kick your ass.”