Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
God.
Will he even be the same man if he comes home with a broken body, mind, or spirit?
I thought I’d braced myself for the agonies of a military man’s woman. I thought I could stand them, but now...
...now, I have to focus to stay calm enough to breathe, and we’re not even married yet.
Holy hell.
I wish he’d offered me a ring before he left.
I don’t care how insane that sounds.
I want to be his, irrevocably.
Even if the price is worrying myself sick, suffocating in this gaping silence where he’s completely at fate’s mercy.
For love, I’m ready to suffer, the same way I know he hurts for me too.
I only hope whatever he’s gotten himself into means he’ll still return in one piece.
It’s late evening before I go downstairs to scavenge up some dinner to reheat. I’m finally feeling up to a warm meal.
I think about going out, but it’s almost ten o’clock, and I’m not keen on driving into the city after dark with crowded bars and limited other options.
I find some leftover curry in the fridge and pop it in the microwave, grabbing a coconut water on my way out.
Maybe I’ll get out and go for a run—assuming Dad hasn’t told security to keep me under lockdown.
It’d be nice to burn off some of this tension turning my muscles into tangled knots. And it’s not just the constant worry about Chris that has me on edge.
This is the first full week I haven’t slept with him since Vegas.
My body misses his like a drug.
I’m wearing the same panties I did on our first trip now, and the memory alone makes me wet and sad. Never a fun combination.
So I sit down on the patio next to the pool and tuck into my food, willing myself to taste the layered spices rather than dead slag.
Sigh.
I’m still chewing in perfect sync with my brain, off in la la land, when Evie steps in front of me.
“What do you want?” I snap, looking at the dark-green liquid in the cocktail glass she’s brought with her. So much for being clean. “Did you just come to taunt me or hide your drinking from Dad?”
I’d give anything to wipe that smirk off her face.
“Of course not, dear. It’s a mocktail. The chef comes up with such delightful things, even if they lack the usual kick I’m used to.” She holds the drink up, staring at it glumly. “Your father will be joining us in a few minutes. My request. Pleasant night, isn’t it? I’d like to put this all behind us, Cordelia.”
“Cool. So you’re suddenly okay with me dating your son?” I ask.
I’m not surprised when she rolls her eyes and huffs.
“You’re too cute. All that time alone must’ve gone to your head. I’m just glad you finally decided to come out of your cave...” Evie flashes me that man-eating smile and cranes her neck down, too close for comfort. “You know there are a hundred other boys out there to fuck, right? I’ve done plenty of that between husbands, dear. Sometimes during them too.”
“You’re so gross,” I fling back.
Her eyes narrow. “Oh, grow up, little Delia. You’re too old and too smart to be acting out like a child.”
If she’s trying to flatter me, it doesn’t work.
“Will you just back off?” I snarl.
It’s all I can manage.
I swear, if she doesn’t get out of my face, I will slap her.
I hate how she makes me wonder if I’m secretly a violent person.
And what the hell does she mean by acting out?
“Ah, there’s your dad now.” She takes a long sip of her drink and looks up at the windows past the gardens, where there’s a figure striding around the kitchen. “I’m afraid you’re in deep shit, missy. Don’t say I didn’t give you fair warning before this got messy.”
Next thing I know, her hand slips into her pocket. There’s a crinkling sound, and she raises a clear plastic bag of something that looks like flour and—
Oh, no.
What the actual hell? Is that cocaine?
“Evie, what the—” I bolt up so hard I knock her drink out of her hand just as she drops the bag in my lap. The glass goes tumbling to the ground and shatters like a broken ornament, and then she jumps.
The bag falls out of my lap and hits the ground as I stand and stare.
Evie staggers back, her eyes big with shock and hurt.
Just what she wants.
Just what she planned, I realize too late.
By the time Dad appears at her side, she’s doubled over and wailing, staggering around like she’s blind.
Too bad the glass shards are everywhere, crunching under my flip-flops.
My eyes are locked on that white bag of lies, slightly torn now and leaking powder everywhere.
“What’s going on?” Dad yells, pulling her into his arms and shooting me a dirty look before he notices the glass under his shoes and looks down. “My God. Is that...”