Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 153544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
“Nonsense. There’s no such thing when it comes to Glyndon.”
“That’s what I said.”
“If it’s of any consolation, Astrid has been running a campaign in his favor for weeks now. She even warned me not to be difficult or talk to him as if he’s a criminal. Doesn’t she know that I won’t hand my daughter over without some hard shaking?”
“We are not handing her over. We’re observing his actions for now.”
“Maybe they’ll break up in a few months and we’ll be done with this whole charade.”
Uncle releases a sigh. “I wouldn’t be so hopeful if I were you. They’re both in too deep. Just because you refuse to see it doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
I curse beneath my breath as we reach the dining room. Aurora, who was overlooking the staff in setting the table, smiles upon seeing us and leaves them to it.
“So?” She watches us. “Have you tortured the poor boy enough?”
“The bad news is that it’s impossible to torture him,” Uncle says. “The good news is that we know his weakness is Glyndon.”
“Oh, Jonathan.” She links her arm with his. “Let them be. Young love is so beautiful.”
Uncle and I share a look because, holy fuck, that’s almost the same thing Astrid said earlier.
Speaking of my wife, I leave Uncle and Aurora and head to her favorite place, after our bed.
Sure enough, when I open the door to her art studio, I find her standing in the middle of it with Glyndon.
I’m used to being unnoticeable when I come here, so I don’t interrupt her creative time. Sometimes, I watch her for hours, just to see her in focus mode. Other times, I feel like she needs a break and serve as a distraction. Those occasions often end up with me fucking her in the midst of her brushes and palettes, and usually results in us looking like a mess.
It’s been almost three decades since I met this woman and I still feel that rush of blood to my head—and my cock—whenever I look at her.
It doesn’t matter how old we grow, she’s still the woman who tames my wild side, brings light to my darkness and peace to my days.
She’s still the freest spirit I’ve ever seen.
Right now, she’s clutching Glyn by the shoulder as they stare at a chaotic black-and-red painting on the wall.
I say chaotic because I’m artistically illiterate, as Astrid and our sons like to tell me. It’s only Glyn who says, “It’s okay, Dad, you don’t have to understand art to feel it.”
Because she’s special, my little Glyndon. Compassionate to a fault, too. Like her mother.
Only she’s not little anymore and she’s bringing a headstrong boyfriend home that I get irritated about whenever he comes to mind.
“Why didn’t you show me this before?” Astrid asks her, a soft frown etched between her brows.
Glyndon slides her palm down her shorts. When they’re standing side by side, they look so similar and yet so different. They’re the same height, have the same eyes, but everything else sets them apart.
My wife has mature beauty, the type that’s honed by years of being a badass businesswoman, artist, wife, and most importantly, mother.
I would’ve never been able to be a good father if she wasn’t the mother of my children. She understands the difference between the three of them and does her best not to squash it.
She never dressed Landon and Brandon in the same clothes. Not even once.
And when people told her they’d look cute in similar clothes, she said that she wasn’t ready to sacrifice their sense of identity just so everyone would think they were cute.
“I guess I didn’t think it was good enough,” Glyn says. “Bran wasn’t supposed to show you this.”
“He didn’t. I actually snuck into your art studio. I know, I know. I shouldn’t have, but you haven’t shown me anything for almost a year.” She tightens her fingers on our daughter’s shoulder. “And this isn’t only good enough, it’s an emotive masterpiece. The first time I saw it, I had tears in my eyes from the flow of emotions.”
“R-really?”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
“Thanks.” Her voice shakes. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”
“Not everyone is going to like what you put out and that’s okay, Glyn. Just tune out other people’s opinions and only focus on your art. That’s if you still want to continue down this path.”
“Of course, I do.”
“You always expressed yourself the best with a brush in hand and a wicked grin on your lips.”
Glyn chuckles, then hugs her mother. “Thanks, Mum, really. For everything.”
Astrid pats her back with a loving expression on her face. “Does that mean you’ll show me your creations from now on?”
“I will.”
“Good. Now, tell me what you were thinking about when you did this one?”
Glyn smiles sheepishly. “A beautiful nightmare.”