Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
“What?” I ask, laughing. “It’s just an observ—” My words stall when someone walks in behind him. A woman. Smart. Tall. Sexy as hell.
“This is Allison,” Brad says, all casual, like this isn’t fucking weird. “Allison, Rose and Beau.” He walks past us, leaving us staring like goldfish at the woman on the threshold of the kitchen. Speechless. So this is who was in his bathroom the other morning when Beau walked in?
“Hi,” Allison says, approaching, holding her hand out to Beau first. “Lovely to meet you.” Beau shakes, before Allison offers it to me. I take it limply and let her do all the shaking. Her smile is bright. Her makeup perfect. Not a hair on her head out of place. Yes, she’s pure power in a woman, but that aside, what the hell is she doing in the house?
“Pleasure,” I say, returning her smile. “I love your jacket.” I gesture to the cream tailored piece with impressive shoulder pads and beautiful gold buttons.
“Oh, thanks. Armani, I think. Or Vivian. I forget.” She smiles, friendly, and brushes the front down.
“What do you do, Allison?” I look over my shoulder to see Brad at the coffee machine, him looking back too, interested, smiling. I have not a fucking clue what to make of this, and judging by Beau’s wide eyes and shocked face, she doesn’t either. She lifts her green juice to her lips, her attention fixed on the beauty before us, as wowed as I am.
“I’m an attorney.”
Beau snorts, sending green slop shooting out of her nose, and my cheeks balloon, not just at the state of Beau, but . . . an attorney? Is this real? “Oh cool,” I say like a chump. “Criminal or family law?”
Allison frowns at Beau. “Criminal.”
Another cough from Beau, and I want the ground to swallow us both whole. “I’m so sorry,” Beau says, holding up her juice. “This is really sharp.”
“Looks . . . appetizing.” Allison turns her frown onto the green slop.
“It’s actually not bad.” Beau gets herself together. “My husband insists.”
“Beau’s pregnant,” Brad says, joining us, nodding at Beau’s stomach, prompting Beau to feel at her tummy on a smile.
A criminal attorney?
“Oh, congratulations.” Allison beams at Beau.
“And Rose recently gave birth,” he adds.
“Oh, you noticed that?” I ask seriously, earning a narrowed eye from Brad. What is this, speed friending?
“Oh, how wonderful,” Allison says. “Boy or girl?”
“Girl. Maggie. She’s a month, and my son is fourteen.”
“Wow, you don’t look old enough.”
I smile, an edge of sadness to it, inevitably. “Unfortunately, I am.”
“Come on,” Brad says, collecting Allison’s elbow, obviously eager to get her away from us. Then why the hell did he bring her here in the first place? This isn’t how Brad does things. He fucks in hotel rooms, usually hookers, albeit high-class hookers, and Allison clearly isn’t a hooker. She’s a fucking attorney. “I’ll walk you out to the cab.”
“It was lovely meeting you,” Allison says, letting Brad lead her away.
“And you,” Beau and I sing in unison.
“What the hell has Brad told her he does for a living?” Beau whispers.
I shrug. I’m stumped. “Maybe they don’t do much talking.”
Brad looks back, and both of us show our palms to the ceiling, silently asking for an explanation. He shakes his head, as if exasperated. He has a nerve. I want every little detail.
The moment they’re gone, Beau and I scramble up and dash to the window that looks out over the drive, searching for Allison’s cab.
“Well,” Beau breathes. “That was interesting.”
“Wasn’t it just?” I say, as James wanders in, not looking where he’s going, his neck craned, obviously seeing Brad and Allison go.
He faces us, his expression bewildered. “Who the hell was that?” he asks.
“A criminal lawyer,” Beau says, making James’s mouth drop open. “You didn’t know about her?”
“No, I didn’t know about her. Did you?”
“Only when she breezed on in here this morning and introduced herself.”
“Who introduced herself?” Esther asks, returning to the kitchen.
“Oh my God, you missed it.”
“Missed what?”
“The criminal lawyer.”
Her back straightens, worry plaguing her. “A criminal lawyer? Here in the house? Why?” She scans the doorway, obviously wondering if she needs to find her son and hide him.
“Brad’s guest,” I say, getting up and collecting my breast pump, unscrewing the bottle and taking it to the fridge.
“What?” Esther’s face is a picture of confusion. Join the club.
“She stayed the night.”
“A criminal lawyer?” she gasps. “What the hell is he playing at?”
I shrug, as Beau turns her attention onto James. “What’s he playing at?”
James laughs, then places his hand on his chest. “Why’d you think I’d know? I have no idea what the fuck’s going on in that man’s head these days.”
“He’s lost his mind,” Beau grumbles, smiling sarcastically as she hands James her empty glass of green. “I’m taking a shower.”
He soon discards the glass. “I’ll join you.”