Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“I was being tortured. I agreed under duress.”
“You’re marrying me. That’s final.”
I wanted to tell him all he had to do was tell me he loved me and I would marry him today. I would stand beside him forever if he admitted his feelings. But I knew it was a useless cause.
“So romantic.”
He studied me with narrowed eyes. “Is that what you need, Maggie darling? Romance?”
I shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt.”
“Done.” He backed away. “I’ll teach Hedgy to walk, and I am going to romance the hell out of you. You’ll be begging me to drag you down the aisle.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Watch.”
“Okay, Romeo. I’m going to shower and see my dad and meet Rylee for coffee.”
“Since when?”
I shook my head. “Since I told you on Friday. You’re supposed to have lunch with Sam.”
He furrowed his brow. “Right. Forgot.”
“Well, between the marriage demands, the walking lessons, and the trussing, not surprised. You have a lot on your mind.”
“You know, you used to be afraid of me.”
With a grin, I slid my hand down his torso, cupping his dick. It reacted immediately, growing stiff under my fingers. “That was before I knew how to control you.”
He groaned as I dropped to my knees, pulling down his sweats.
“Oh fuck,” he muttered as I took him in my mouth. “I’m going to enjoy being married to you.”
I hummed around him, and he fisted a handful of my hair. “Forever, Myers. It’s you and me forever.”
I had to admit, the thought of that thrilled me.
“What’s on your mind, Maggie Mae?” Dad asked.
I startled at the use of my pet name and his voice. Dad had been pleased to see me, without remembering me. He happily ate the sandwich I brought him and chatted to me about his wife and little daughter, then fell asleep sitting in the sun.
I looked his way to see how clear his eyes were. He was watching me, understanding coloring his voice. The way he always used to before the disease took hold of his mind.
“Just thinking, Dad.”
“About?”
“I met someone,” I said, unsure how clear his memory was.
“I see. Is it serious?”
“I love him.”
“Is he good to you?”
I sighed, taking his hands. They were gnarled and rough, and I dug in my bag, bringing out the hand cream I always carried. I rubbed the cream into his dry skin, talking as I did. “He’s very good to me, Dad. He wants to take care of me.”
He grunted. “As he should. You’re a catch. Why haven’t I met him?”
“You did once,” I said carefully, unsure if he could recall the encounter. “He brought his kitten to see you.”
Dad frowned. “I remember a cat. A man, no.”
I chuckled. “Well, Hedgy is pretty cute.”
“Wait. I do remember a man. Tall. He asked me for my blessing to marry you.”
I looked down, not wanting him to see my disappointment. He was confusing memories. That happened a lot. Small bits got mixed together. TV shows, movies, past events, all became one memory at times. Incorrect, but I never tried to explain that. It only upset him. And me. I worked on his hands for a moment, then spoke when I knew my voice was steady.
“Well, did you say yes?”
There was no response. I peeked up to see his eyes closed. He’d fallen asleep again. It happened more and more these days. Less time awake, more spent asleep or in another world.
Still, I kept rubbing the cream into his hands until they felt softer.
I sat with him for a while longer, and when he woke up, he politely asked where his wife was, and when I said she was out, he nodded.
“She likes to shop,” he informed me. “For herself and my daughter. Have you met her?”
“Yes,” I replied with a catch in my voice. “She is nice.”
“She’s amazing. We are so proud of her.”
I nodded, fighting back my sob. “I’m sure she knows.”
Rylee patted my hand, her eyes filled with sympathy. “It must be hard,” she murmured. “Your dad is in front of you, but not there.”
“Yes, it is.” I wiped at the tears that kept coming. “Sorry, I can’t stop.”
“It’s okay.”
“What about your parents?” I asked, wanting the subject off me.
She shook her head. “My dad and mom divorced when I was young. I lived with my mom for a while, but we never really got along well. My dad remarried and I stayed with them, but they moved to Denmark when I was eighteen. I’ve been on my own since then.”
“Do you get on well with them?”
“Dad and Cara? Yes. She always wanted to move home, and Dad was thrilled for the chance to travel. They asked me to come, but I was deep into tech school. My mom, I rarely see.” She grimaced. “We still don’t get on.”
“Any particular reason or usual parent stuff?” I asked, thinking of Bane.