Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
“Considering I’m not my father, yes. It’ll be fine. I’m still going to make sure everything is done well above board. Too many variables can result from this. Are you okay?” Boston asks, sitting down beside me. His arm wraps around my back, pulling me closer to his intoxicating scent. I shouldn’t be this close to him, allowing my walls to drop and about to tell him more of my life than anyone would ever want to know.
“Yes, no, maybe. I’d kind of like to rewind time, go back to yesterday, sleep without tossing and turning, thinking about the what-ifs, sleep in, not come downstairs hearing my father in a rage, worried he was going to escalate.” My father has yet to raise his hand to my mother. I fear it’s only a matter of time, though. One wrong move, and he’d do whatever he could to make her give him what he wants. Money, power, greed—that’s who he is, worse now since Mom is finally filing for divorce.
“I have a lot of money, Amelie, but I’m pretty sure it takes more than cash to turn back time. Hell, you’d probably need some scientist, and even then, it wouldn’t matter. If it wasn’t what they want, not even my billions can make it happen.” My head pops off his shoulder. Why I let myself do that is beyond me.
“I’m sorry, did you just say billions? Holy fuck, I really don’t know you, not at all.” My family is not rich. We don’t have a politician’s name attached to ours. What we do have is a family name that’s been passed down from generation through generation. We’re well known around this area. Humble is how I’d categorize us. We’re not rolling in the dough, and when we do have extras of anything, it’s donated. Food especially. Any money we do have is attached to buildings, the hospitality industry, and all that.
“We’ve got a lot to talk about. Part of that is my permanent residence down here. Sorry about your luck, but you aren’t getting rid of me that easily, Amelie.” He bumps our shoulders together.
“I’ll say.” Another worry pops up out of me from nowhere. Boston having as much money as he says he does could make my life pretty unbearable. Just what I need, another freaking concern.
“No kidding. Please excuse me while I pick my jaw up off the ground.” I say. Jesus, all the doubts keep piling up, one on top of the freaking other.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll, umm…yeah, go back inside.” We break apart as if we’re two teenagers getting caught sucking face.
“It’s okay, Mom. Mom, as you know, this is Boston Wescott. Boston, this is my mom, Isabelle. Everyone calls her Isa, though,” I formally introduce the two. We stand up in unison. I wipe the back of my shorts off. Dumb move on my part, sitting on concrete with white bottoms.
“It’s nice to meet you. I can see where your daughter gets her beauty from,” he turns on the charm, and my mother is silently eating it up.
“Nice to meet you as well. Won’t you come in? I’m pulling a breakfast casserole out of the oven now.” The Southern Belle comes easily with my mom, mainly because that’s who she is through and through.
“Yes, we will. Boston is going to tell you what happened and what Daddy has been doing behind your back. He’s also staying for the next week or so. Obviously, you’ve seen the books. If we can make a room available for him, I know he’d be happy, and really, he’s about to do us a massive favor.” Mom looks me over carefully. She of all people knows what her future ex-husband is capable of doing.
“We can do something for that, not that he’ll actually be in his room at night.” My mother and her verbal vomit states. Boston’s eyes lock on mine. There’s no way my face isn’t showing exactly what I’m thinking. This day, I’m going to need coffee, and a lot of it. Stat.
“Okay, this has been a fun conversation,” I groan, unsure if I should laugh or cry. Instead, I go with, “Mother, if you’ll lead the way,” shutting down any further discussion about Boston and me, using my hand in a fluttering movement to shoo her inside the door. My other goes to Boston. No need to have employees gossiping more than they have already.
“Wow,” Boston mouths once Mom gives us her back. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, muttering, “Yep, that’s my mother,” under my breath. The sooner this is over, the sooner I can talk to Boston, alone and in my room.
SIX
Boston
“The last time I was down here, my realtor showed me what I know now is your building; an MLS was online beforehand. There was no screwing around with that. You may want to let your attorney know now, it was still up as of this morning when I was on the plane,” I finish telling Isa the chain of events from last month to today between taking bites of her breakfast casserole made of eggs, sausage, cheese, and some kind of bread. She offered hot sauce, a Louisiana staple with most meals, but there’s no way I can handle a meal too spicy in the morning unless it's a Bloody Mary. Since that wasn’t offered, I went with coffee, black and steaming, so hot it nearly burned my damn tongue when I took the first sip.