Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 131209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
“Yeah… your uncle Lucus.”
I nodded. “Oh… my dad’s brother.”
There was silence at the other end for a few seconds.
“Are you still there?” I questioned, looking at my screen to make sure the call wasn’t dropped.
“Yes… sorry. I know you haven’t met me, or anything, but I know your dad passed several years ago… We tried to make it to the funeral, but…it just didn’t work out.”
“Like I said, no worries. But you did say something about widowed? Right?”
“Yes. Your uncle had been struggling with cancer for the last few years and it’s actually one of the reasons we couldn’t make it to the funeral.”
“I understand, we weren’t very close to my dad’s side of the family, anyway. I am sorry for your loss, though.”
She scoffed. “I’m not.”
We were silent again and her reply nearly knocked me on my ass. I immediately assumed that she endured the same curse that the Hill men seemed to deliver. I felt sick to my stomach and had to sit down in the driver’s seat.
I couldn’t turn out like them. God wouldn’t be that cruel.
“Are you still there?” she asked, taking me away from my fears and trepidations.
“Yes…”
“Anyway, I was calling to let you know that I was the executor of your uncle’s will and you are one of the beneficiaries.”
I shook my head. “Listen, excuse my language, but I don’t give a shit about anything related to my father and his family.”
“You may want to reconsider, Devon. May I call you Devon?”
“Of course.”
“Your uncle left you his bar.”
“Bar?”
“Yeah, he owned a bar on South Beach. It actually does extremely well and he’s left it to you.”
I leaned forward, putting my elbows on my knees, and swept the falling hair from my face.
“I don’t understand, Cathy; why he would do that? Are you sure you’re talking to the right person?”
“I’m positive, your uncle talked about your father often and your name was brought up a few times. He wanted to keep the bar in the family and you’re his only nephew.”
“I see.”
“I could meet you at the bar tomorrow morning if you’d like… before you make any rash decisions.”
I wanted nothing to do with my father. I especially didn’t want anything to do with his family that did jack shit for us when he died. My mom could barely get my grandparents to attend the funeral. If it weren’t for him serving as an officer for over thirty years, then our asses would have been out on the street. His pension and life insurance saved us from that fate, but only because it was provided through his job and it was mandatory. He wouldn’t have given a flying fuck about us otherwise.
“Ummm…”
“I know this is a lot to take in, Devon. I may not know you, but it’s safe to presume that we have lived similar lives. And like you, I am relieved that I no longer have to worry about your uncle, and I mean that in every sense of the word. You may want to consider this offer, not only for your future but for your family’s as well.”
I nodded. She was right.
“What time tomorrow morning?”
“Let’s shoot for ten AM?”
“Can you text me the address?”
“Of course.”
“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Sounds good. Have a good night.”
I hung up and looked at the screen saver on my phone, it was of my mom and sisters. I knew right then and there that I needed to do what was right…
As much as I didn’t want to.
CHAPTER FOUR
<>B<>
“Charlotte, you can’t be here,” my Dad said.
I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw them. My dad was holding a woman in his arms and it wasn’t my mother. She didn’t look anything like my mom; the complete opposite to her blond hair, white skin, and blue eyes. They couldn’t see me, but I could see them. The vase of roses from my mother’s garden was scattered on the floor; the vase, shattered in a million pieces, lay around it. The same roses I had spent hours with my mom gardening.
She loved them.
Especially placing them in their bedroom. She said that red roses meant beauty and perfection and that it was a timeless, honored rose that meant, “I love you” with just the color… no words were needed when someone handed you a red rose.
Now they were tainted. Ugly. Disgusting. Vicious. I would hate red roses forever.
“Robert, I miss you,” she moaned into his mouth. He kissed her like he kissed my mom, like I had seen him do a thousand times.
“Your kids miss you. I wanted to see you. When you told me that you would be home alone, I had to come over; I had to be with you. Tell me it’s okay, tell me you love me and are happy to see me,” she panted.