Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
I have no fucking clue what she’s going on about, so I shrug. “What do I need to be told, Marti?”
“That she’s no good for you.”
I’ve never spoken to my grandmother with anything but respect. I won’t let her talk about Afton that way, though. She’s an angel who has helped me see how good life can be.
I rest both of my forearms on the table. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Shaking her head, she lets out a breath. “No, she’s not.”
“Yes, she is,” I insist. “I’m crazy about her, Marti. I am so fucking crazy about her.”
Her hand darts up to cover her mouth because I broke the cardinal rule of no cursing in her presence. “Your mother wouldn’t want to hear you talk like that.”
I’d bet she would. I know she’s talking about Gaia, and she never heard a word out of my mouth because she died before I learned how to talk, or walk, or do much more than cry.
If her untimely death taught me anything, it’s to seize the moment and live every day like it’s your last.
“How can you say that?” she asks incredulously. “After everything she did to you, you can’t say that.”
I stare at her because that makes no goddamn sense. All Afton has ever done to me is make me feel whole, cared for, and appreciated at a level I’ve never felt from a woman before.
Marti must pick up on my confusion because she narrows her eyes. “You can’t be crazy about Brooklyn. You can’t love her.”
I lean back in my chair. “I never loved Brooklyn. I know that now.”
It’s my grandmother’s turn to look confused as hell. “I don’t understand. I was talking about Brooklyn. Who were you talking about?”
“Afton. I’m falling in love with her, Marti.”
She jumps out of her chair to wrap her hands around my neck. “I am so happy.”
“Me too,” I say, patting her arm. “Me too.”
With a deep breath, she takes a step back. “I was asking about Brooklyn because she came here today.”
I drop my head. “Today?”
“With Auggie,” she says as she takes her seat again. “He ate some spaghetti, colored a picture, and he asked about you.”
Fuck. That rips right through me.
I only have to glance at Marti for her to know the unasked question perched on my tongue.
“He looked happy, Lucas.” She nods. “He looked very happy to be here.”
Chapter 41
Afton
I swing open the door to my apartment expecting to see Joel. He’s not there.
I take a step back. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
My mom glances at my dad before she smiles. “We wanted to surprise you.”
Mission accomplished.
If I had known they were on their way over, I would have at least tried to look presentable.
I’m wearing a pair of jean cut-offs, a pink tank top, and an apron covered in the makings of a chocolate cake for Nelson.
It’s his favorite.
It’s my way of thanking him for his sage advice about love.
“Come in.” I step aside to motion for them to enter because I can’t exactly shut the door in their faces.
It’s only when they cross the threshold to my home that I notice something is different.
My dad is dressed down in a pair of dark jeans and a short-sleeved light blue button-down shirt. My mom is wearing a sundress I’ve never seen her in before. On her feet are leather sandals with worn straps.
Are these people really my parents?
I take a deep breath as I turn to face them. “How have you been?”
My mom breaks down first. Her hand darts to her mouth as a loud sob escapes her. “Oh, Afton.”
“Mom.” I reach for her but pull my hand back because I don’t know what she needs from me.
Maybe they are here to disown me or tell me to change my surname because I’ve caused them enough humiliation.
My dad finally speaks. “We were wrong.”
What?
My gaze darts to his face. “What did you say, Dad?”
He rushes at me, gathering me in his arms for a hug. It’s what I’ve longed for since I ran out of the church.
My mom joins in, standing next to us both, she swings an arm around my shoulder. “We were wrong.”
I soak in those words and the gravity of them.
I have a place in this blame game, so I toss myself into the mix. “I’m sorry too.”
“For what?” My mom steps back. “For having the courage to follow your heart? For being brave enough to know you deserve everything from the man you marry?”
Our embrace breaks, so I smooth my hands over my apron. “Warren wasn’t right for me.”
They nod at the same time.
“I should have told you both that I was having doubts before the wedding,” I confess. “I didn’t know if that was cold feet or more, but now I see that I knew deep down that marrying Warren wasn’t the right thing for me.”