Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
“Yeah, I’d like to explain, and I think we have a lot to talk about, except I have my nieces for the evening. If you wouldn’t mind coming to my place and bringing Jolene, once they’re down for the night after we eat or Forest picks them up, we can talk,” Madden suggests.
“That’s okay. We can talk tomorrow. I don’t want to intrude on their time with you.” In all honesty, I could use an hour, a day, a week, maybe even a month to wrap my head around the fact that Madden Hughes is a multi-billion-dollar game developer. I never saw it coming, and while I have a lot to atone for in the way of an apology, this is just wow.
“You’re not intruding. They could probably use a woman around. They’re currently asking if they can paint my nails and toes. I’m not opposed to it, but I also know it’s my turn to do theirs after.” He sounds desperate, and I don’t mean to laugh at Madden, more like laughing with him. “You think this is hilarious, don’t you. It won’t be funny when you see the finished results.” I don’t reply right away, trying to keep him guessing while also trying to keep from envisioning him with his nieces, doing all the things uncles seem to do, without allowing it to hit me in the solar plexus.
“I have to feed Jolene and myself, then I’ll come over.” Giving in to Madden is easier now that I’ve had more than enough time away from him, even if that was self-induced.
“Don’t eat dinner yet. I’m about to throw some chicken wings on the grill. The girls requested macaroni and cheese. I boycotted that for French fries, even had to bribe them with ice cream,” Madden offers. It’s kind of hard to say no when he’s receptive to hearing what I have to say.
“Madden, you had me at I’m sorry. Send me your address. I’ll get Jolene fed, grab my nail polish gear, and head your way,” I tell him, already standing up from my place on the floor and shutting the top to the laptop. Jolene heard the magical word and is doing circles around the room while walking towards the kitchen.
“They have nail polish. You don’t have to bring yours.”
“That may be, but I’ve got stickers they can put on top with a clear coat and a lot of colors.” Maybe that was too much, but it felt like the right thing to do, to bring something along with me besides my dog.
“Fine. They only have one color here, so I’m sure they’ll enjoy that. I promise we’ll talk.” There it is, folks. Madden Hughes may be a millionaire or billionaire, but he’s not a dick.
“Okay.” Even if we don’t, the time together and seeing Madden, being around him, is enough, for now.
“See you soon, sweetheart.” I breathe easier for the first time in days knowing that in a matter of an hour, I’ll finally be around the man I pushed away only to realize I should have been holding on to him with two hands, and not because he’s wealthy. I am not, in fact, a gold digger in any way, shape, or form. Yes, we have a lot to talk about. I also realized life wasn’t the same without Madden in it, and I don’t ever want to lose that again.
“Soon.” We hang up. I do a happy dance. Jolene does the same as well as a bark that tells me she’s tired of waiting for her dinner. That’s good news for the both of us because I’m ready for her to eat, do her business, and for us to get on the road to Madden’s house.
THIRTY
Madden
I fucked up when I didn’t return Hendrix’s text or the call. The meeting was supposed to last an hour, maybe two tops. It ended up that I had to stay overnight, wrap shit up in the morning, and then headed home directly afterwards, where Forest needed me to take the girls because he had a job that was out of town and our parents had appointments they couldn’t miss. As much as Mom tried to reschedule Dad’s, it wasn’t happening. So, as soon as my feet hit the ground, I was in Uncle Madden mode. Unfortunately, that meant every other facet in my life fell by the wayside, including Hendrix.
“Uncle Mad, someone’s at the door!” Cammy yells through the living room as if I couldn’t tell by the way Coop is barking, the doorbell is ringing, or the alert from the outside camera telling me someone pulled into the driveway. My house is a decent size in a gated community with a guard who’s worth a shit, and if he isn’t there, you either need to enter a code the homeowner gave you, or there’s a speaker box that has the numbers to the resident’s house to get in that way. In this case, when I texted Hendrix my address, I also gave her the code, so she didn’t have to go through the rest of it, seeing as how it’s now creeping into later hours and the security guard is gone for the night.