Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
“I know.”
What would Ava say if I told her about Cutler? Should I tell her? “Let’s not fight.” I press my lips into her temple. “It makes my heart split in pain, and I don’t want you stressing out. We have to watch your blood pressure.” I must get a machine and educate myself on the safe levels so I can check every day. Maybe twice a day. Depending on how many disagreements we have.
Sliding her butt off the counter, I cup it with both hands and carry her back into the bedroom. “I’m confiscating that book,” she mumbles into my shoulder.
“That’s my book, and I’m keeping it.”
“We need to make friends.”
Oh? I eye her as she looks at me, doing a terrible job of hiding her cheeky grin. And suddenly her boob is in my face. “Did you read the part of the book that says a husband should service his wife as she demands?”
I latch onto her flesh and suck, and she’s putty in my hold, but then I look at the clock on the bedside, groaning. No time. “I did, but our plane is scheduled for take-off in two hours. I need more time, so I’ll service you when we get home. Deal?”
“No deal. I want to stay in Paradise.”
“You’re incorrigible, and I love it.” I put her on the bed, ignoring her slighted face. “We need to catch that flight.” Before my parents turn up here.
“I need you,” she purrs, pulling out the big guns and seizing my dick in her hand. Fuck.
I resist and pull away. It’s unheard of. “Ava, when I have you, I like to take my time.” I take no joy from her look of disbelief. I try to kiss it away. And fail. “Pack.”
Leaving her on the bed, I go to the bathroom, checking my phone on the way, contemplating texting John.
Thank God that’s done. Although, actually, was the whole conversation around Sarah wasted breath? Because soon there might be no manor at all.
I laugh under my breath, uncomfortable.
No manor? It seems incomprehensible.
And yet, so did happiness and redemption only a few months ago.
37
There was a heavy sense of regret the entire journey home. Regret we’re leaving Paradise. Regret it ended on a bit of a low. Regret London is waiting for us. And for me, there’s a whole host of issues that need resolving. I had thought my list of things to tackle was reducing. Somehow over the past few days, it’s grown. Seeing my mum has knocked me sideways, I admit it. Historically, such an encounter would’ve had me diving for a bottle to wash down the remorse and anger, and my lucidity and feelings right now are also why I would reach for the vodka. I can’t say I’m all too fond of the regret I’m feeling, or the worry, or the compassion. Mum looked so old. And Dad? How is he?
My knee jumps repeatedly as I stare down at my mobile. The kitchen is quiet, Cathy’s not here yet, and Ava’s upstairs getting ready for work. Can I? Should I?
I place my coffee down and snatch up my phone, dialing, standing, and walking around the island in circles. “Jesse?” Amalie says, unsure.
“Yeah, it’s me.” My sister inhales, while I fight the compulsion to yank at my recently knotted tie. “I saw Mum.”
“I know.”
I stop pacing. Of course she knows. “It didn’t go too well.” I roll my eyes to myself. “I mean—”
“You’re married,” Amalie says quietly.
“Yeah, I’m married.” To someone I actually want to be married to. “We’re expecting. I mean, she’s expecting. Two. Babies, I mean. Twins. It’s twins.” I look up at the ceiling. “Ava’s expecting twins.”
“That’s so amazing, Jesse.”
“Thanks.” Amazing is right. And obviously a massive surprise to them. “I’m sorry your wedding was canceled,” I go on. “How’s Dad?” My face bunches, and I don’t fucking know why.
“You didn’t see him? He was with Mum at the restaurant, Jesse.”
“He was?”
“Yes.”
“He didn’t . . .” What? Say hi? Come shake my hand? Congratulate me?
“Come to you?” she asks. “For you to yell at him?”
“I didn’t—” I pinch the bridge of my nose, taking air into my lungs. I did yell at him. Always. Usually drunk. “So he’s okay?”
“They’re monitoring him,” she says, and I nod.
“That’s good. Very good.”
“So your wife . . .”
“What about my wife?”
“She’s . . .” Amalie hums, and I show the ceiling my rolling eyes again.
“Younger than me, yes,” I confirm, knowing Amalie would have wanted every small detail from Mum. “By nearly a whole twelve years, if you must know.”
“And she knows about The Manor?”
“Yes.”
“What’s inside The Manor?”
“Yes.”
“She knows about Jake?”
“Yes.”
“Your drinking?”
“Yes,” I grate.
“Rosie?”
My inhale is so sharp and deep, my entire body lifts. It also gives Amalie my answer. “Did you just take my call to remind me of all the shitty things that have happened in my life?”