Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
I hadn’t touched my personal account in years because Justin took care of all the household expenses, and if I even hinted at something, he had it delivered before I could make up my mind if I really wanted it or not. My cars, he bought; my jewelry, he bought; my luxury vacations, he paid for and everything else in between.
Of course, our children’s five-two-nines were set up by him, and their grandparents gave them all hefty sums when they graduated, and I know their future weddings and house down payments were taken care of. My money has been well invested over the years, and I have enough to take me through two lifetimes. In short, I have been sitting pretty. If he lost his mind and walked off today, I would still be set for life without the worry of financial strain.
That’s not all I was interested in, of course, but I learned after the failure of our marriage that you can’t live off of love and that shit doesn’t pay the bills. He loved me once and still cheated, and I am not one to forget shit.
“You can go down and file for the license on Monday.” I’ve never seen a happier man in my life. He paid and paid well for his betrayal, never once taking a step wrong. He let me know each time someone hit on him, which I pretended not to care about, but he, on the other hand, was very offended that anyone would hit on him because he was taken.
I reminded him time and again that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, so how were they to know? So he found his old one somewhere and started wearing it again, then had a conniption when I refused to wear mine.
He suggested all kinds of ways for me to let people know I was taken. A promise ring, just an engagement ring, anything. I refused them all, but I do wear the Cartier love bracelet he got me and never took it off. Let that be enough for him.
When he pushed as to why I refused to wear an engagement or wedding ring, I reminded him that he wore his wedding ring while he was fucking that dirty bitch, that it didn’t stop him, so why would it stop me or anyone else for that matter since it meant so little and that usually got him to crawl out my ass for a while.
He reached over to the bedside table and pulled out the jewelry box he’d hidden there. Inside was the biggest rock I’d ever seen on a ring. It had to be six carats easy and the most brilliant clear-cut diamond in a teardrop shape. Flawless!
I let him slip it on my finger and felt his dick jump against my back. Nasty, he’s still got it. We spent the weekend in bed and didn’t have to be quiet because there were no nosy ass teenagers sniffing around out there. That last kid put me through it, I’ll tell ya.
From beginning to end, he is his father’s child, a pain in the ass if there ever was one. From the womb, he was giving me hell. But he’s the sweetest little boy who loves his mama. He never had to suffer the trauma of a broken family, so he’s a bit spoilt. His brother and sisters protect him like he's made of glass, and Justin does everything he can to make it up to him for the guilt he feels about his birth.
He learned about the divorce sometime in his teens and was very upset with her dad until I sat him down and asked him to forgive him. The others had already done that, but they’d dealt with it as young kids while he was much older and had a better understanding.
My sweet boy threatened his dad that day that if he ever did that again, he’d never even look at him again in this lifetime. As stubborn as he is, I’m inclined to believe he meant it, but we will never know because his dad is attached to my ass.
JUSTIN
I woke early that Monday morning as if the place was going to open earlier or something, which I knew it wasn’t, but I was so excited that she’d finally said yes that I could hardly sleep the night before. I watched her sleep for a while, just taking in her beauty and the fact that she was mine.
I looked at the clock and tried not to wake her as I climbed out of bed and, not for the first time, thanked my lucky stars that hers was the bed I was in. I break out in a cold sweat sometimes when I remember how close I had come to losing everything we’d shared in the last eighteen years or so since she let me come back home.