Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
If only we could all do that.
“Psyko is another member of the club, and half of Diane’s situationship.”
“Ahh… I, too, am in a situationship,” I joke, pouring the juice into a larger pitcher.
“Not like this.” Gracie snorts beneath her breath.
“Just because we are different and more open doesn’t mean we won’t last!”
“Oh no, that I believe!” June giggles, scooping up the plates. “Let’s go serve.”
I carry the pitcher as Diane leads us through the back doors where the morning sun directly hits your face. There’s a large rectangle outdoor table that stretches along the entire length of the building. Chairs are tucked beneath, with people sitting on each one, and there had to be over twenty. Kids, old and young, leather patch members, and then there’s Wicked at the head of the table, Wolf on his lap, and the sun behind his head. Everyone is still in their pajamas mostly, so I don’t feel uncomfortable dressed how I am. And even if they weren’t, I don’t think it would bother me then either. I feel safe here. The kind of safe I always feel around Wicked.
I’m paralyzed and I can’t move. The whole time I’ve been here, I’ve felt like my old self. Free, loved, welcomed. It’s being around the club that has made me realize how cold my home truly was. Unease stirs in my belly at that realization, but I make my way down to the side of the table, lowering myself to the right of Wicked.
“Hey,” I take Wolf off him and watch as he runs toward an area to the far opposite side. There’s a wooden playground built with a sandpit, a water play area, and fresh green trees and herbs. I can’t take my eyes off Wolf as he laughs with another couple of kids as they play.
A hand comes to my thigh and my eyes flick up to Wicked’s. Everyone is lost in their own conversation, so I know they’re not paying attention to my face right now, but Wicked’s brows knot together when he sees my face. “What?”
I want to tell him that everything is too perfect here. That being here, with him, makes me feel like I’ve never felt pain in my life. That he takes it all away and he always has. That no matter what messed-up shit he has done and does to me, that I won’t look past the dark to get to the light; I’ll exist in the dark with him. I want to tell him that I’m proud of the man he has grown to be, that he is the greatest father Wolf could have ever asked for and that I still trust him implacably. I want to tell him that I’d die for him, bleed for him, and not second-guess a single thing.
But I don’t. I just stare back at him and fight the tears that choke me. Because I can’t say any of those things to him.
Because I’m marrying someone else.
“Nothing.” I smile at him, giving the sweetest lie of all. “Nothing at all.”
I replay the memories of the past two days over in my head. I’m home, in my penthouse that I have created wonderful memories in, yet—it doesn’t feel like home. There’s an empty throbbing that won’t stop beating inside of me and the only time it does, is when I think back to the passages at the clubhouse. To June, Diane, and Gracie. To Wicked with Wolf on his lap.
“You okay?” Betty asks, pulling me out of my daze. “I mean, clearly, Wicked hasn’t changed, but you’re going to need to cover it up before the wedding is all I’m saying.”
I take a sip of my coffee, blowing on it. “I will, but Mik doesn’t care. He doesn’t want this any more than I do—clearly.”
“That motherfucker is lucky to be marrying not just you, but a La Rosa. We all know damn well their family has dropped ranks lately.” Betty knows everything. She’s my constant and I don’t care that she’s not in-house. She’s mine, so that’s good enough.
“I think he’s hiding something from me,” I whisper, grabbing the pendant around my neck that Mama gave me.
“Oh, I bet he’s hiding a whole bunch of shit!” Betty clucks her tongue, flicking through images on the iPad.
“Not him. Wicked…”
Her flicking pauses, and I know she’s staring at me. “Why do you say that?”
I stand from the table and empty my mug in the sink. “I don’t know. Since Wicked and I first met, it’s as though we’ve been tuned into each other’s emotions. I can feel in my gut when he’s hiding something from me.”
Betty raises a judgy brow. “I’m just sayin’, you didn’t say that when homeboy kidnapped you and chased you around a maze while trying to shove a needle in your arm while fucking you now, did you?”