Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
When I’d gotten out, I hadn’t expected her to launch into her begging me to play her fake boyfriend again. In fact, I’d been adamantly against it, but it’d gotten me some one-on-one time with my son, which I’d pounced on.
However, it became very clear, very soon after we started “fake dating” to make this new guy she wanted jealous, that we couldn’t even do that without getting on each other’s nerves.
Today, after about four months of fake dating on our part, and months of ‘fighting’—something that she’d asked me to do with her also—it became very apparent that I couldn’t do it anymore.
She’d all but begged me to meet her at Morrigan’s coffee shop—again, a place I hadn’t been to since I’d gotten out of jail—to plead with me to “keep going” because it was “working.”
However…with Morrigan back, though…there would be no more pretending with Danyetta. It wouldn’t work. Not now, and not ever again.
Because Morrigan was life changing.
Morrigan being back was the answer to a prayer I hadn’t realized I’d been praying for.
Morrigan being back was the kick in the ass that I needed.
Morrigan being back was the one and only thing I hadn’t allowed myself to ever think about.
I closed my eyes, and once again, Theresa was there with a snide comment.
“If you’re going to stand there all day, at least do me a favor and refill those cups.”
I did her a favor and refilled the cups.
CHAPTER 3
I see your inner snot-nosed child is throwing another whiny little shit fit. I’d be happy to feed her a nice cuppa shut the fuck up.
-Morrigan to Aodhan
MORRIGAN
I’d had a good day.
In fact, I’d had a great day.
I’d had a good three days, if I was being completely honest.
Why?
Because I hadn’t passed out once.
I hadn’t even needed to pass out once.
But, as they say, all good things must come to an end.
I’d made a good run.
Now it was time for my life to remind me who was a bitch. Spoiler alert, it was me.
And not in a “she’s rude and I hate her” bitch way, but in a “you’ll never accomplish living a good life” kind of way.
How was the world going to ensure that I lived a bad life today?
Well, by throwing three people into my day that were sure to send my stress levels through the roof.
One, Aodhan.
Two, my stepmother and my dad.
Aodhan, I knew would never send my stress levels out of whack on purpose. My father and stepmother, though? Yeah, they were more than willing to make my life hell if they felt the need to.
But there was always the option to avoid them if I could…so that was what I was currently trying to do.
I’d seen them the moment that I walked into the grocery store.
Sadly, I really needed the damn milk, or I couldn’t run my business. And, since my milk order was running late due to an accident on the interstate, there was no way in hell I could avoid heading to the one and only store in Accident, Florida without having to drive an hour out of the way.
An hour I didn’t have today seeing as I’d waited until the last minute to get out of bed, which had been a mistake.
Now, I was left scrambling for milk, and had no other choice but to go into the store even when I knew two of the four vehicles in the store belonged to people that were known triggers for me.
All I had to do was avoid them, however.
I could do it.
I could walk in the door and go the opposite way of where I heard their voices.
Because I knew they would be talking.
There was no way that Aodhan would be rude enough not to say hi to my father if he saw him, and my father loved Aodhan. Always had.
When Aodhan and I first started dating, my dad was truly surprised that I was “actually able to pull a guy like Aodhan.”
I guess maybe I had been surprised, too.
I mean, obviously, Aodhan had been gorgeous. If it hadn’t been for the fact that we’d been connected since birth, I’m fairly sure that my dad would’ve thought I’d paid him to be something to me just to get my father off my back.
See, my father had grand disillusions. He felt that a woman’s place was in the kitchen, with babies on her hip and at her feet, with very little life experience and the knowledge that her husband was king.
If I was being completely honest, that was why my mother had tried to kill herself.
My father.
Or, my father’s ideals.
I didn’t think that my mom had any clue what she was marrying into until she’d been forced to have her fifth child, which turned out to be a set of twins.
Though, my parents were very unlucky when it came to children.