Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Brody, come out here, please,” I tell him, stepping away from Paola.
He stumbles from around the corner. “Hey, Dad,” he mumbles, completely ignoring his mom.
“What do you say to your mom?” I’ll be damned if he’s going to disrespect her anymore.
“Hi, Mom,” he mutters without looking at her.
“How would you feel about moving in with me?” I ask.
His hazel eyes, identical to mine, remain devoid of all emotion as he shrugs.
“Hey.” I step toward him and tip his chin up, locking eyes with him. “I asked you a question.” It’s then I notice his eyes are bloodshot. I inhale and smell it—weed. He’s high. Jesus Christ, when did he get old enough to smoke?
“Does it really matter what I want?” he retorts.
“Of course it matters,” Paola cries, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. “But you fight with Ted every day, and I don’t know what else to do.”
Brody glances up at his mom with a sadness in his eyes that breaks my heart. “Does Ted make you happy?” His question comes out of left field, shocking me. I’m not sure what her happiness has to do with anything.
“O-Of course he does,” she stammers, sounding as confused as I am at the turn of this conversation.
Brody nods once, looking almost… resigned, then looks at me. “Yeah, I’ll go live with you. I hate this city anyway.”
“Oh, well, then you better start liking it because I’m moving home.”
Paola gasps, and Brody’s eyes widen at my words. Since Paola told me she was pregnant, and I walked out the door, I’ve never lived in a place longer than a few years. Only long enough to open another nightclub and then move on. It’s not until at this moment, as I stand in front of my son—who’s almost as tall as me and is as high as a kite and sad as fuck—and his mother—who’s in tears, looking exhausted and confused—that I realize I’ve messed up.
“Home?” she breathes.
“Yeah, I’m back for good.” I look at Brody. “Go pack whatever you need, and don’t even think about bringing any drugs with you.”
After he walks out of the room, I turn my attention back to Paola. “I’m sorry. I should’ve paid more attention and come home sooner.” I was so caught up in running from my own demons, pissed at Paola for her betrayal while trying to make a name for myself—when she told me I’d never amount to anything after I dropped out of college—that I lost track of the important shit, like my son. I told myself quality was more important than quantity, but I was wrong. My son needs us both. But right now, it’s clear he needs me. He’s hurting and lashing out, and opening a new club sure as hell isn’t more important than taking care of him.
Paola sniffles. “For how long?”
“I meant what I said. I’m back for good.”
Savannah
“I’m sorry. We didn’t mean for it to happen,” Lois says, attempting and failing to sound sincere. Too bad I know her well enough to know that the way the corner of her lip is quirking up just slightly, along with the brightness in her shitty brown eyes, means she’s anything but sorry, and she most definitely meant for it to happen.
Like me, Lois spent most of her childhood in foster care. It’s where we met. We would talk for hours at night from our beds in our crappy, loveless foster home about how we would find love when we got older. We might not have had a loving home growing up, but we would create our own once we were old enough. The men of our dreams would sweep us off our feet and love us and take care of us. They would buy us the biggest houses with the whitest picket fences, and then we would have the most beautiful babies. And we would love them and cherish them. We wouldn’t take what we have for granted because we know what it’s like to be on the other side of that fence.
When we graduated from high school, Lois stayed behind, working at the local gas station because she didn’t have the grades or ambition to go to college, while I went off to the University of Tennessee on a full academic scholarship. While there, I met Neil when I interned at his father’s company, Everton Construction. He wasn’t the white knight I imagined, and he didn’t sweep me off my feet, but he offered me everything I dreamed of on a silver platter, so I went all in. Beggars can’t be choosers after all.
He proposed after I graduated, and three months later, we were married and living in his home. It didn’t actually have a white picket fence because he said they were ugly and preferred wrought iron. Maybe that should’ve been my first clue he wasn’t really the one. Lois came to visit for the wedding and fell in love with the city. Since she had no money or means to move and live on her own, I offered to let her stay with us. Until Neil, she was the closest thing to a family I’ve ever had.