Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Oh, come on, you two! Not in my pool, I just got it cleaned!” my mom scolded us from the patio, a hand shading her eyes and her other on her hip. Both our fathers stood beside her, shaking their heads.
“Told ya.” Stacey grinned, sucking my lip into her mouth. “They already knew.”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose as Stace takes a seat on the other side. “She hates me and she doesn’t even know the worst of it.” My eyes are still squeezed closed when I feel her hand on my arm. “Migraines again? You haven’t had those in a while.”
I move away from her, tucking my hand under the table. “Yeah, and about Isa, she won’t know. Not right now, at least.”
“Bryant…” Stacey murmurs. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. More secrets from her is exactly what she seems to hate.”
“She does,” I agree, pinning Stace with the coolness of my tone. She has aged well. Real fucking well. Like Isa, they age naturally. Unlike my mother or Stacey’s mother, for that fact. “But she is fragile right now. She’s already insecure having you around. I think telling her how much we really know each other will only infuriate her further.”
“Are you back with her?” Stacey asks, and I know why she’s asking. It’s not so she can steal me, it’s Stacey addressing how she needs to proceed. It’s what she does. She plans months, years ahead of herself and hates any sudden change that she wasn’t prepared for.
She’s impossible to deal with—in short.
“Stace, as long as she and I are both alive, we will always be together.”
“I see it…” she whispers, and when she looks down to her lap, her shoulder-length blonde hair curtains around her petite face. She looks up at me from beneath her lashes. “I wish—you’re very lucky.”
“Max was a piece of shit. You’ll find someone else.”
Stace laughs, but it’s a laugh that hides sorrow. There’re underlying battles that are screaming behind that chuckle. I know her enough to know that. “I don’t know. I think I’m ready to be single for the rest of my life.” Stacey trusts me. Completely trusts me more than she trusts anyone.
“I found a guy.”
Stacey walked into my hotel room while I secured the final tie around my neck. Moving to the other side of the room, I poured amber liquid into a crystal glass, the sound of cold ice clinking with the whiskey cracking through the small silence.
“Count your blessings it ain’t me… unlike the bride who I’ll be waiting for at the end of the aisle in about… twenty minutes.”
She glared at me. “Very funny, B. Very fucking funny.” Moving closer to me, she took my glass off me. “She’s lucky, B. Anyone would be lucky to be able to see the side you keep so hidden.” She swallowed my drink and gave it back to me. “I know this is your day, and Isa Johnson is a total babe, but can we talk about me for a few seconds, please?”
I gesture for her to hurry up with a flick of my wrist. Typical Stace, I’m about to marry the first woman I’ve ever fucking married and she wants to talk about her train wreck of a life. If I didn’t fucking care about her, I’d snap her neck and put myself out of the misery.
“There’s one problem about this guy that I just met.”
“To be fair, I take full credit for your shit taste in men, since my dick was the first you ever had down your throat. I set you up to fail.”
She glared at me, flicking her long blonde hair over her slender shoulder and tapping her thigh-high leather boot against the tiled floor. “I’m serious, Bryant! I’m worried and I need to vent. Can I tell you why I’m worried?”
“Hmmm, why is that, princess?” I liked to call Stacey princess whenever she was being a brat. Which was, admittedly, more times than I called her Stace. The fact that she’s bringing this up on my fucking wedding day only solidified that.
“I don’t know him, Bryant. What if I like him a lot, and then he turns out to be a fucking psycho,” she whispered harshly so the conversation didn’t travel to the dining room, where both our parents and siblings were currently seated.
“He won’t be like your dad, Stace. God didn’t have the energy to make two of him. Not that I think he’s fucking bad to begin with.” Stace always preferred my dad over hers. “Anyway, have fun. You are not fated to marry for love. That’s what happens when you’re the daughter of a bank owner and the master money launderer.”
She sighed, running her hands through her hair. “He’s coming for dinner.”
“Really? When?”
“Tonight. Like after your wedding!”
“He’s fucking keen…” I raised an eyebrow at her, leaning against the desk in my room.