Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“Sailor…” I suck in a breath before I say what I need to say—she may have insight that I don’t.
“Hmm…” Her hand pauses on the door.
“He hates me.”
“You hurt him. Give him time.” She closes the door, leaving me alone with my son.
It’s been a long time since I felt safe with Jerome. But that night, I sleep the best I ever have.
Jerome is not next to me when I open my eyes, and that realization jolts me awake. Heart pounding, I jump from the bed and run to the bathroom, trying to find him. When he’s not there, I rush out of the room and down the stairs, my eyes frantically searching. As I reach the bottom, I find him sitting at the kitchen counter with Joey in front of him. Their heads turn my way when I release a gasp of air.
“We’re cooking pancakes,” Jerome says happily, and my chest warms at seeing him so content. “And did you see the puppy, Mummy?” Joey turns his back to me as he goes back to cooking. I walk over and wrap my arms around Jerome’s waist to hug him from behind.
“Puppy?” I ask, confused.
A little dog comes running around the corner, straight to Joey.
Becca’s dog—he must have agreed to take her.
I wasn’t sure if he would keep her but seems he did.
“Are you helping?” I ask, looking at Jerome because Joey does not want to pay me a lick of attention.
“I did. I stirred, and Mr. Rossi said he will do the cooking.”
“His name is Joey. You can call him Joey,” I tell him before pulling away and speaking to Joey’s back. “Thank you. You didn’t have to cook for him.”
“Should I let him starve?” Joey says, his back still to me. I notice he has Mickey-shaped pancakes cooking, and I smile.
“No. So thank you.”
He turns to me, his eyes falling to my chest, and his icy-blue eyes darken. I look down to see a purple mark, which is now healing.
“Sorry, I’ll cover up.” Then, handing me the spatula, he goes to leave. “Joey.” He stops but doesn’t look back.
“We can find somewhere else to live if this is too much.”
“I like it here,” Jerome pipes up, so I ruffle his hair as I wait for Joey to respond.
“You can stay. It’s half yours, isn’t it?”
“It’s not. We aren’t legally married.”
I watch as he takes a deep breath before he silently walks off.
“Time for some pancakes?” I ask Jerome.
“Yes, with Nutella.”
“Nutella?” I question him.
He claps his hands. “And strawberries.”
“Strawberries it is.”
“Any for me?” Abigail asks, walking in, looking like she hasn’t had a lick of sleep. She sits on the seat next to Jerome and takes his water, gulping it all down. I grab him a fresh glass. “Shit, you are bruised.”
“Language, Abigail,” I scold, nodding to Jerome.
“Well, you are. I’m sure he sees it… unless he’s blind.” Maybe I should wear something with a high neck and sleeves, at least until I’m healed. “I’m going to bed.”
“It’s morning.”
“Not for me.”
TEN
JOEY
She is covered in bruises.
Walking down the stairs, I spot Jake straight away. He’s sitting at his bar, a bottle of water in front of him, as he goes through his books. I have keys, so I let myself in. When I sit next to him, I place the bag on the bartop. He glances at it and goes back to his paperwork.
“Payment for your wife, I presume?”
“Yes. With interest.”
He smiles at my words, then slides the bag back to me. “Give it to your brother. Payment for a year. No need to have you boys back in here anytime soon.”
“You don’t like our company?” I joke with him.
“Oh, I do, but my clients are starting to recognize you all. It’s bad for business, which I’m sure you understand.”
“We own a percentage of the company,” I remind him.
“Correct, but it’s not yours. Let’s not get the two mixed up. You are protection, nothing more, nothing less.” He pauses, then searches my face before asking, “How is she?”
“Do you care?” It’s not like Jake to care about anything but business. Business is all he knows. As far as I’m aware, he has never been married or even been in a relationship.
“She seems like a decent enough woman. Had to be to marry you,” he jokes. “Her son was well mannered.”
He is, which is surprising, especially considering who his father is.
“She’s fine. Cooking breakfast as we speak.”
“So why aren’t you with her?” he asks, his brow furrowing. “You should leave to be with her.”
“I’m not sure that’s the right thing to do. It’s over between us.”
“That doesn’t sound convincing,” he says.
A knock sounds at the door, and he gets up and goes up the stairs to answer it. Two girls come in, giggling. They walk straight past me and head to the back.