Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“No,” he said, and left it at that.
“He’s a musician, right?” I prodded, trying to get him to talk.
“Yeah.”
“That’s interestin’.” I sounded lame.
“Why is it?”
“I dunno. It’s not. I’m surprised at all the cars is all. I had it in my head that he was persona non grata, you know? I mean, the way your mother tells it.”
He was waiting.
“I’m a bit shocked that there are people here who would still want to see him after the way he treated her.”
According to Etta Ross, her husband came home one day and told her he couldn’t be married anymore. He went on to say that he couldn’t be a father to Lang and Talia either because he had to go on the road. It all had to do with his dream of being the second coming of Miles Davis. He could not be the successful musician he wanted to be if he was tied down to a wife, kids, and a mortgage.
“Yeah, well, that was only part of the story, and I only heard that version when I was much older. When I was little, to protect our feelings, she made it sound much more important.”
“The reason he left, you mean?”
He nodded.
“Like he left to pursue his dream.”
“Which he did, but that wasn’t the only reason.”
“When did your mother tell you the whole story?”
“Once me and Talia were older, when we were both teenagers, she figured we could understand what really happened.”
“Which was?” I prodded him because he wasn’t talking fast enough for me.
“That it wasn’t a wife and kids that were the problem, because he already had another daughter when he left us…it was what my mother expected of him.”
“And what was that?”
“Security.”
“As in?”
“As in she needed him to have a steady job with a dependable paycheck. She wanted to build a life and that meant day-to-day work that he simply couldn’t comply with.”
“Not how he was wired.”
“That’s right. He had to go on the road, that’s what musicians do and that’s no place to raise a family, moving from place to place.”
“It’s not,” I said with a shrug. “And your mother is far too practical to ever even consider somethin’ like that.”
“Correct.”
“Which makes sense and all but––” It had taken me a second to parse what he said but I finally figured out what tripped me up. “Wait. Did you say he had a daughter when he left?”
“I did.”
“So he couldn’t be a father to you and Talia, but he could be a father to another child of his?”
“Yes, because his girlfriend—now his wife—took her daughter with him on the road.”
“You’re implyin’ that if your mother had simply followed after him, then they would still be together?”
“Well, there is the whole cheating piece to consider, and the child he had when he was still married to my mom.”
“Right.”
“But despite all that, look at the turnout. Everyone still likes him.”
“Probably because your mother, who does not like to share her private business, never made him the villain.”
He grunted. “Very true.”
“Accordin’ to Talia, your mother told everyone the split was amicable because she didn’t want people talkin’ about her not bein’ able to keep her husband. Your mother’s a very proud woman.”
“She is.”
“But because of all that, she let it be okay that your father visits here after all this time and brings his second family around.”
“Yep,” he said, sounding tired suddenly.
“I’m sorry,” I soothed him.
“It is what it is,” he said with a shrug.
I squinted at him.
“Yeah, fine, that was as lame as your it’s-interesting-he’s-a-musician comment.”
“I’m leavin’,” I announced, turning to head down the sidewalk.
“No, no, wait,” he said, chuckling, darting around the car, slipping in front of me, moving to bar my path when I feinted left, then right. “Come on, I’m sorry.”
I crossed my arms.
“In other news,” he began, taking hold of my biceps, “you look really good in my white linen shirt, tan chinos, and wingtip boots.”
Hard to keep scowling at him when he was smiling at me. I could feel my face heat.
“You look really good,” he apprised me, his voice thick, guttural. “And I really appreciate you coming with me.”
“You’re welcome,” I managed to get out, and when he leaned in to kiss me, I eagerly closed the distance.
His lips slid over mine so perfectly, like we’d been kissing for years instead of not quite yet a full day. When his hands went to my hips, holding on, his fingers curling into the belt loops of my pants, making sure I couldn’t move, I realized again how much I loved his possessiveness. When no one had ever wanted you, finding out your best friend did was heady stuff.
“I’m sorry you had to wear your side holster because I have the other,” I told him.
“My shirt’s covering it. I’m fine.”
He had a white T-shirt on under a long-sleeve shirt, the back of it camouflaging the holster pretty well. He’d rolled up the sleeves, showcasing powerful forearms, and the jeans he was wearing were sinful, absolutely molded to his legs and ass, letting everyone see how beautifully the man was built. I had a hard time looking away.