Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
“Hey.” Laurent’s boots shook the wooden porch, and I looked over my shoulder and up at him, perking up at the phone he held out. “It’s da big man. For you.”
I pushed to my feet and grabbed the phone from his hand. “Thank you.”
Turning away, I lifted the phone to my ear. “Hey.”
“Hey, love.” He sounded tired, the vowels gruff, but there was a lilt in the greeting, something that gave me hope. “Ready to come home?”
I squealed, jumping a little in place at the unexpected gift. “Yes. Now. Immediately. When?”
“I’ve got to meet with the funeral director first thing in the morning, then I’ll head to the airport. I’ll be there by one or two, your time.”
I nodded. “I’ll be ready.”
He chuckled, and I wished I could see it, could see the stretch of those beautiful features, the glint of his grin, the way his eyes warmed, and he looked at me as if I alone held the key to his happiness.
“Are you okay, Bell?”
It was the wrong question at the wrong time, the tender concern in his voice puncturing my dam of control.
I pinched my eyes shut and fought to maintain my composure. “I’m fine.” The last word whispered out of me, trembling in its delivery, and he would have had to be deaf not to hear it.
“I’m going to make everything right. When you—when we come back here—I’ll do everything right. Take care of you. Protect you. You’re going to want for nothing, do you understand that?”
It was a desperate question, his control wobbling, and the man still didn’t understand what made me tick. He still waved money and finery in the same fist as love and comfort, not recognizing the value in his presence. I wanted him. I wanted his love. His time. His attention. Nothing else.
“Do you understand? This isn’t like before. Everything has changed now.”
“Yes.”
Everything has changed now. He was right. No Gwen. No Hawk. I would go back to Vegas with him and ... my mind tried to grasp the idea of what my new reality would be.
What was a single Dario like? How would he be as a boyfriend? His wife had just died. What emotional capacity, if any, would he have? And he had just been accused of murdering his wife. Without a trial or proof of Robert Hawk’s guilt, the paparazzi—and the public opinion— would follow him, and us, everywhere.
Everything has changed now. He said it like it was a good thing, but standing in the damp heat of a Louisiana night, Laurent’s phone pressed to my ear ... I wanted a moment where everything went back to how it had been. Careless sexual chemistry. Late night texts. Butterflies and forbidden moments.
Everything has changed now.
“I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I love you too.”
He paused, and I could feel the weight of the silence, the press of some unasked question hanging between us. I waited, but he only told me goodbye, and we hung up.
I took a deep breath, then went to tell Laurent the news.
The airport was eerily familiar. Still deserted. Still broken pavement and a chain-link fence. When I was last here, I’d stumbled off that plane, afraid and intimidated further by the giant man who met me there. Now, I stood next to Laurent, staring out at the sunny runway, and breathed in the familiar scent of his soap.
“Thank you. For everything.” I fought the urge to hug him. It would be awkward, most definitely. He’d probably untangle my arms and step away. Or stand stick straight and pat my back with the sort of motion you reserve for elderly grandmothers. I looked back to the runway and tucked my hands into my back pockets instead. “I know I was a total pain in the ass.”
He shrugged. “You was.”
I laughed, and a dragonfly buzzed away, as if surprised by the sound.
Laurent shifted, started to speak, then stopped himself. I waited, curious about what he was struggling to get out.
“Let me tell you a little bit about our boy. This wasn’t a small thing, sending you here. And right now, he probably feels a little broken. This isn’t the first time he’s lost someone he’s close to, someone that he felt responsible to take care of.”
He leaned forward and spat in the dirt. “You know, Dario lost his Momma as a teenager.”
I nodded.
“He didn’t handle it well. All but killed himself on alcohol and loose women, got locked up half a dozen times before he was able to figure himself out.”
He glanced at me. “This time, he’s handling it da best that he can. And he’s doing a lot betta than I thought. But it’s going to be hard on him, Gwen’s daddy dying like that. It takes away Dario’s ability to handle the situation. He’s going to feel cheated. So go easy on him. Be patient with him.”