Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Sam splits us up and takes Ava in, up and down. “I can tell,” he says, and I suppress a cough, praying for him. “You’ve got that healthy glow about you.”
“That’s funny,” Ava replies, removing herself from Sam’s grasp and finding Kate. “Because I mostly feel like shit.”
For the love of God. “Mouth, Ava.” Especially now. I don’t want our child hearing such terrible language. I frown as Ava claims Kate and leads her to a quiet corner, probably to wring her for information. Not gonna lie, I’m quite curious myself. I turn to Sam. “What gives?”
“Yes, I want to hear this too.” Drew muscles in. Where the fuck did he come from? I look him up and down. “What?” he asks, smoothing a hand through his hair. “What are you looking at?”
“You have a hair out of place.”
“Fuck off.” He goes back to Sam. “What gives?”
“A fiery redhead gives—”
“Good head.” Drew says.
I cough over my water, and Sam nearly knocks his teeth out when his beer bottle hits them. “Not cool, Drew,” I say, ready to hold Sam back.
“I’m messing.” His hands come up. “Sorry, habit.”
“Well, break the fucking habit,” Sam hisses. “Or I’ll break your fucking legs.”
Drew presses his lips together, hiding his knowing smile. He’s thinking what I’m thinking. Sam’s falling. Or he’s already hit the deck. “We’re exclusive,” Sam says.
“Like exclusive, exclusive?”
The poor, clueless twat frowns. “There’s more than one kind of exclusive?”
The laugh that erupts from Drew is rare and infectious. “You prick.”
“What?” Sam asks, looking a bit worried.
“Exclusive is exclusive,” I clarify. “That’s it.”
“Oh. Good.”
“So what the fuck are you doing here?” I ask.
“We can be exclusive here too, can’t we?”
“Sure. You can be whatever you want to be. Just make sure it’s clear to other members.” I look at Drew, and he points to himself, like . . . what, me?
“Yes, you,” I clarify for the sake of it.
“I like Kate, but—”
“But?” Sam asks, offended. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing’s wrong with her.” Drew chuckles. “She’s just not my type.”
Both Sam and I turn our full bodies into Drew and tilt our heads.
“I told you.” He laughs. “Gagged and heartless.” He looks past us to Natasha and the rest of the table. “I need some food and a fuck. And what the fuck’s wrong with your wife?” Drew points to the corner where Ava dragged Kate. “She looks like she’s been released from the Funny Farm.”
He’s right. Ava’s slumped back in her chair, holding her belly, howling at the ceiling. Kate’s grinning at her. Intrigued, I go over, but not before I capture a picture of my wife belly laughing. “Something funny?” I ask.
“No, nothing.” Ava snorts, wipes her nose, snorts again, her body jigging up and down on random short bursts of laughter.
“Here’s your dinner.”
“Oh, I’m starving.” She’s virtually salivating as Pete places her steak down. It’s a familiar look, except . . . well, I’m usually the steak. “Medium?” she asks before gobbling down a potato.
I look at Pete out the corner of my eye, eyebrows high. “Just to your liking, Ava,” he says with the stupidest, toothy smile. I take my plate from his other hand. “Can I get you anything else, sir?”
“No, thanks, Pete.”
“I’ll leave you to eat,” Kate’s says, standing.
Ava points at Kate with her knife, the blade catching one of the spotlights above and blinding me.
I quickly lean back.
Feel something sink into my gut.
Pain.
* * *
I look down at the wooden handle hanging out of my stomach. What the fuck has she done?
“Do you want me dead, Lauren?” I ask, grabbing on to air urgently. But breathing hurts, the rise and fall of my chest making the pain flare. Blood pisses all over the couch. “Because you’re too late.”
* * *
The fuck?
My hand darts out, seizing Ava’s wrist, pushing the knife down to the table. “Don’t wave your knife around, Ava.”
“Sorry,” she says, almost in confusion. Like I’m overreacting.
* * *
“I’m sorry,” Lauren blurts, her hands in her hair, the panic in her deranged eyes real. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I don’t want you to die.”
“Then why the fuck did you stab me?”
“I need you to love me,” she screams. “Why can’t you love me?”
* * *
I shake my head clear and take a second, looking around me. Where I am. Who I’m with. My stomach. It twinges. I wince, resting a hand on my scar over my shirt, frustrated that Lauren keeps slipping into my present and knocking me off-kilter. Fuck off.
“Good?” I ask Ava, picking at my own plate, suddenly not so hungry.
You have to eat, bro. Something other than peanut butter.
My appetite has vanished, and I’m thankful when the boys join us, the conversation nice and easy, although Ava’s too busy smashing her way through the steak to partake. And what’s with Kate’s permanent grin? I shake my head, bewildered, returning to my salad, picking at a few leaves. But then Ava starts coughing, her face turning bright red, her eyes watery. She’s choking?