Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Chapter 11
It’s after ten o’clock by the time I’ve got Georgia off to sleep, and never has a glass of red tasted so good. In my boxers, I slump on the couch and flick through the sports channels, restlessly searching for something to watch. Something to help me wind down. There’s no peace to be found, not when my head is hurting so much. What’s bothering me most, though, is whether Raya walking away was a result of my dishonesty, or whether she’s put off by the fact that I have Georgia. Both are as equally hard to stomach. I sigh, so fucking mad with myself.
Giving up on the TV, I finish my wine and head for bed. Sleep might help wash my mind clean.
Peeking in on Georgia, I tiptoe to her bed and listen for the sounds of her shallow breathing, tuck her sprawled leg under the duvet, and kiss her forehead. “Love you, pidge.” She mumbles sleepily, flipping over and nuzzling down.
I nearly make it to my own bed when a loud crash deafens me. “What the hell?” I shoot back to Georgia’s room, finding she’s still sound asleep. More crashes. I follow the echo to the front door and pull it open, alert and ready for what lies beyond.
“Coral?” I release the door just in time to catch her when she stumbles forward.
“Drew!” she slurs, grappling at my arms to cling onto me. “My baby daddy!”
“You’re smashed,” I mutter, hauling her up but not daring to release her, for she would surely land on her face. Part of me wants to let her. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to take you back.”
I roll my eyes, dipping to toss her over my shoulder. “We were never together in the first place, Coral.” I stride through to the lounge and drop her on the couch, not as roughly as I should. She writhes and squirms to sit up. “Look at the state of you. How did you get here?”
“A taxi.” She reaches for my T-shirt and hauls me forward. “Take me to bed and wrap me up in those chains you love so much.”
“Coral, keep it down. Georgia’s asleep.” I brush her off and storm off to the kitchen to get her some water, fighting the urge to throw her out. I might hate the woman for what she did to me, but, like it or not—and I don’t like it—she’s the mother of my girl. Georgia would be heartbroken if anything happened to her. I have an obligation to make sure the drunken bitch is kept out of harm’s way while she personally can’t see to it herself. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and traipse back to the lounge, finding Coral slumped back.
“Here.” I unscrew the top and hold it out to her. One eye closed, she reaches for the bottle, missing by a mile. “For God’s sake, Coral.” I sit beside her and feed her water.
“See. You can be nice to me.”
“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for my daughter.”
“She’s my daughter, too, you know.” It’s all a slur.
“Unfortunately, yes, I do know. But I wouldn’t have, had Sam not caught you sneaking out of my apartment the night you took advantage of me.” This is weird. Not once have we ever talked about it. Not once in eight years. I could barely bring myself to look at the woman for the whole of her pregnancy.
When Georgia was born, my attention was firmly on my baby, whereas Coral’s attention was on me. It was one of those beautiful moments in time, a new life born, a time when hatred and grievances should be forgotten. I could tell by Coral’s hopeful face that she thought we could move forward from there. I could move forward, sure. Just not with her.
“Why does no one want me?” she whines, crashing into my side.
“Because you’re a scheming, manipulative bitch,” I quip, half in gest, but mostly serious.
She smacks my bare thigh. “You’re single, too. No one wants you either. Or your chains.” Dragging her heavy head up, she pouts at me. “I’d let you wrap me up in your chains.”
“Coral, if I wrapped you up in my chains, I would never let you free, and not because I was turned on.”
“You’re mean to me.”
“I’m letting your drunken arse sleep in my apartment.” I get up, and with my lack of support she crumples to the couch with no hope of getting up again. “Should I lock my bedroom door so you can’t rape me again?”
She snorts, and it’s with amusement. “You wouldn’t be without Georgia now and you know it.”
I can’t argue with that. “I’ll get a blanket.”
By the time I’ve found a fleece throw and made it back to the sofa, she’s snoring. “What a state,” I say to myself, covering her up, tucking her in more carefully than she deserves.