Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“No, Saul. I only came to tell you out of guilt and I guess as a courtesy. But I’m not yours.”
“Let me take care of you.” The words come out in a rush. “I can help you. I can make sure the baby gets everything she needs. You stole my watch to pay rent and buy medicine. You need help, Molly. Let me help you.”
The offer is so tempting it’s painful. He’s probably rich enough that I could cut back my waitressing hours to something approaching reasonable. We might not have to stress about money every single day. I could stop wondering if I’ll have to choose between food or epilepsy medicine for Jason one day.
But those words still freak me out.
You’re mine.
I don’t want to be his. I don’t want to be anyone’s. I only came here out of some stupid misguided sense of duty or whatever. I figured I owed it to him at the very least.
I never expected this.
“I don’t want that.” I yank my arm and manage to break free. He moves to stand, but multiple people are staring now. “I’m sorry. Coming here was a mistake.”
“Molly—”
“Just forget I mentioned anything, okay? Just forget about it.”
I turn away, heart racing. He says my name again but I don’t respond. I hurry to the door, feeling sick like I did that first morning a few weeks back. Rolling out of bed to my alarm, slamming it off, then the sudden rush of bile—
I could turn around, head back into that ugly bar, and accept his offer. I could let him take care of me.
But what would that mean for the rest of my life? I don’t know Saul. Letting him into my life could be like willingly tying a rabid animal to my leg. And it’s not even just me I have to worry about. There’s also Jason and Nana. Could I really justify letting a total stranger like Saul into their lives?
No, I did what I wanted to do. I told him, and maybe he dangled a whole mountain of shiny gold watches in my face, but the price was too high. I made a mistake with him once—I can’t do it again.
This is my baby and it’s my problem, and I won’t let Saul make it even worse.
Chapter 7
Saul
Molly gets out of a cab in deep South Philly right on the edge of Irish territory. She hurries up the sidewalk, one hand on her belly. Thinking about the baby? She pauses at the door to an old brick apartment building—ratty, rundown, with iron bars on the windows—before punching in a code and disappearing inside.
I watch the building for a while, slumped down behind the wheel of my Lexus.
She’s pregnant. The thought keeps running through my head. She’s pregnant. Molly is pregnant and the baby is mine. But I saw the look on her face when I offered her my help. She looked back at me like I was a snake about to sink my venom-drenched fangs into her exposed throat.
It’s not even that I can blame her for being afraid. She’s clearly struggling with some stuff and I’m not the most wholesome guy. But fucking hell, I didn’t like the terror in her eyes when I tried to make her understand.
Molly is mine now.
She’s my problem, whether she wants to be or not.
Or maybe problem isn’t the right word. She could be an opportunity. She could be my future.
I don’t know anymore. I sigh and lean my head back. The radio plays all the worst music. Top 40 trash. I like some of that Taylor Swift stuff, but mostly I stick to country. I get a kick out of guys singing about their beer and their dogs. But it’s the heartache that really gets me. I think because I can’t relate.
I’ve never been in love before. I’ve never felt the head-over-heels fall, the tumble, the drop. That’s how everyone describes it. A sudden lurch, and the world is different.
I might’ve experienced something like that when Molly said she was pregnant.
Not love, but a shift. Before she said it, I was just Saul. Now I’m a father to an unborn baby. My axis tilted. I’m floating around a new sun.
After an hour, I put the car in gear. She’s not coming out and that’s fine. At least I know where she lives. I’m not sure what I’ll do with this information, but I’m sure I can’t leave things as they are right now. I just have to figure out what I can do.
The next morning, Renzo’s behind his desk. He offers me some coffee when I sit down across from him. I accept it, take a sip, and try not to show how bad the stuff is. He got a fancy espresso maker for his birthday and ever since then he’s been trying out new blends. And honestly, the guy’s awful. Somehow, he ruins every cup he makes, but he doesn’t even notice. It’s impressive, actually.