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 think he’s a prick.”
“Don’t hold back, will you?”
“Whenever have I minced my words?” Very true. “Besides, you think he’s a prick too.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think Ava sees it?”
He smiles, but only mildly. “That girl sees more than you give her credit for.” Is that code for tell her everything? “Any news on Van Der Haus?”
“Nothing.” That’s it. The wedding is over and real life is back. All I need is Freja to rock on up and make it a clean sweep of irrational, deluded females. John grabs his shades off the table and walks away. “I’ll wait until you’ve left.”
“John,” I call, stopping him at the door. He turns, slipping his glasses on. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He picks up his steps.
“John,” I call, making him stop again, this time on a sigh. He doesn’t turn around this time. “I think this is the first conversation we’ve ever had when you’ve not called me a motherfucker.”
“Motherfucker,” he mumbles, pulling the door open and exiting as I laugh lightly under my breath. I pull my phone out, thinking, wondering where Van Der Haus is and when he might strike. Because he will strike. It’s a given. Or perhaps he’s retreated after his failed attempt to drug my wife. I spin my mobile, slipping a hand in my pocket and walking in slow circles. Van Der Haus is a monumental arsehole, but a criminal? I chew my lip and dial someone with no hope they’ll answer. Not after I threatened to make such a mess of him. And they don’t. Fuck.
The door opens and Ava appears. “There you are,” she breathes, ushering me to her with an impatient hand. “Mum and Dad are waiting to leave. They want to say goodbye. Come on.”
I pull a smile from nowhere and go to her, pocketing my phone and sweeping her up into my arms. She squeals, then laughs, arms around my neck. “Anything you say, wife.” I wrinkle my nose when she wrinkles hers, rubbing them together as I walk out with her draped across my arms.
“Why are you lying?” she asks, her eyes set firmly on me.
Lying.
There’s only so long I’ll get away with telling myself my lies are lies of omission. “I love you,” I say, like that’s the answer for all things.
“I know.” She rests her head on my shoulder as I walk on.
“Oh, put her down,” Elizabeth says, exasperated, as I walk down the steps. I’m not sorry to see her go. She’s all right in small doses, and I’ve had too many big doses these past few weeks.
“Did you just roll your eyes?” Ava asks.
“Yes.”
“You’re asking for it.”
Another roll as I place her down and sacrifice her one last time to others. Ava moves in on Joseph first, throwing her arms around him as Elizabeth claims me. “Look after her,” she says quietly. It’s an insult. “And promise you’ll visit us soon.”
“I will,” I say, to the latter demand, not the first. “But your daughter has to take some time off work first.” And if she does, I’m even willing to share her with her parents for a few hours before I take her on our honeymoon, whenever that may be. When the fuck will that be?
Elizabeth surrenders my shoulders for Ava’s, and I take Joseph’s hand when he offers it. “Safe journey,” I say.
“Thanks for everything.” He quickly checks where Ava is. She’s buried in the crook of Elizabeth’s neck. Then Joseph releases me and replaces his hand with an envelope, slapping the back of my hand with his spare.
“What’s this?” I ask, looking down at the bulging package.
“For the bar,” he says. “I said I wanted to cover the bar bill for the day.”
“Joseph, really—”
“Don’t,” he orders, as sternly as I’ve known Joseph to talk. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
“I’ve not even raised an invoice.” Funny. I don’t know how. Sarah does.
“I’m sure that’ll cover it, but let me know if not.”
I back down, because who the fuck am I to stop him from spoiling his daughter, even if she’s unaware. “She won’t like it,” I say for the sake of it.
“Which is why she won’t know.”
Many might ask what the point is if she doesn’t know. The point is, Joseph feels like he’s done her well. It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t know. He’s there without needing the praise or credit, and that is a commendable quality. I hold the envelope up, nodding my thanks, before slipping it into my back pocket. I hope I can make the same gestures for my kids. The pang of pain isn’t avoidable as I look at Ava. Will she ever fucking accept it? And the money Joseph just gave me? That’s starting our kid’s trust fund.
“Elizabeth,” he calls, forcing mother and daughter apart.
“I’m coming.” She rubs Ava’s cheek, slips into the car, then they drive off, Elizabeth waving out of the window as they go.