Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
-Your luv,
Bridget
P.S. Yes, I am.
Yes, I am? She’d folded the note in half and sealed it with a lipstick kiss along the crease—she’d been wearing the red lipstick. Fuck. My head and heart were in pain, but apparently my cock was chipper this morning. I was growing stiff from a fucking note while I was miserable inside. I blew out a frustrated breath and grabbed for the brown paper bag.
The minute I opened it, the smell of fresh-baked, banana nut bread permeated my nose even though it was wrapped in tin foil. I lifted it from the bag to see what was underneath and found it still warm. She baked me fresh bread. The bag also had an orange juice, coffee, and what I initially thought was some wadded up napkins. But upon closer inspection, I realized that wasn’t what was at the bottom of the sack—it was a pair of Bridget’s knickers.
I pulled them out. Wednesday. Since that was today, the first thought that ran through my mind was Is she walking around commando? It dawned on me that she’d already answered my question. P.S. Yes, I am. The woman knew me so well, that she answered my questions before I even asked them. How the hell was I going to lie to a woman who could do that? She’d see right through my bullshit. I hated the thought of lying to her even if I could get away with it. But I hated the thought of hurting her just as much, if not more.
After getting over the initial shock of finding out that the woman who was suing me was my girlfriend’s dead husband’s mistress, I went into a period of denial. It had to be a coincidence. There could’ve been two Ben Valentines that died in a car accident a couple of years ago. It was a long shot, but I had nothing else to cling to. When the deposition was over, I asked my lawyer some follow-up questions regarding the driver of the car. Of course, sleazy Arnie Schwartz was happy to tell me whatever dirty shit they’d dug up on the plaintiff.
The hospital had hired an investigator to surveil Gina Delmonico in an effort to catch her doing things that a person with a bulging disc shouldn’t be able to do. They’d also done a full background investigation on her, including her relationship with the driver. My heart sank when Arnie mentioned that the driver’s wife was also an employee of the hospital—a nurse, and the two of them had a child together. But I felt sick thinking about the last half of the conversation we had.
“Birth records list the father of Gina’s child as unknown. Doubt the kid will ever know she probably has a brother,” he said.
“A brother?” I was confused, or perhaps it was willful ignorance.
“Wife has a son, girlfriend has a daughter—chances are they share DNA. Hope the two don’t unknowingly meet in college and hit it off.”
I couldn’t face her. I also couldn’t break Bridget’s heart by telling her that the man she had been married to wasn’t the man she thought he was. I’d be opening up old wounds that would never get a chance to heal. But how could I not tell her? Brendan could possibly have a sister.
My head was spinning so fast after the deposition that I needed to take some time to think things through. In hindsight, it might not have been the best idea to spend that time thinking in a pub. Nothing was any clearer with my brain marinated in alcohol. I was a bigger mess now than I’d been earlier in the evening. Hence, the reason the alarm was going off at nearly four in the morning, and I was trying to climb in through the living room window. In my drunken haze, I couldn’t remember the code to punch in.
Nigel came to the front door carrying a bat and found me wedged half in, half out of the living room window.
“What the hell, Simon? You could have gotten your head bashed in.”
I lost my balance and fell face first through the window and yet somehow landed on my very drunken arse. “Good thing you didn’t lock the window.”
Nigel walked to the keypad and punched a code in. “Yes. We could have kept out an intruder. We wouldn’t have wanted that, now, would we?”
I stumbled attempting to get up just as Calliope walked into the living room to join us. She pulled her bathrobe shut and squinted. “What the hell, Simon?”
“That’s exactly what your better half said.” For some reason, I found that hysterical and started to laugh.
“Are you drunk?” Calliope asked
“Are you?” I responded, still laughing.
Nigel sighed, “I’ll put some coffee on. You two have fun.”
I managed to get myself to the couch and plopped down on it.