Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“You’re right, but still. I’ll send the guys packing, but I’ll be waiting out front, all right?”
“Whatever you say.”
He’s a good man. Loyal to the core, which I respect. Once he’s gone, I get back to slathering paint on the walls, doing a careful and thorough job. Even if Keely’s afraid of me right now, and even if I’m still angry with her for hiding the pregnancy, this is still her place. And I still care about her.
That’s why I went to the old woman’s house, because I know Jamila’s important to Keely, and I need to repair some of that relationship the best I can.
The sun starts to set. I put on some lights, nearly finished. As I start on the last wall, the edges set first, there’s a knock at the door.
“Roger, just go home,” I call out. “I’m fine here alone. You can call it—”
The door opens, and Keely steps inside.
I stare at her. My heart thumps quickly, erratically, and I slowly lower the roller. Paint drips onto the drop cloth. She’s wearing jeans, a white top tight against her skin. Her hair’s down, her cheeks are pink.
She looks incredible. But she always does.
Only it shocks me how badly I want her, how my body reacts to her.
“I wanted to stop and talk to you earlier, but I didn’t think that was the best place to linger,” I say, putting the roller down and wiping my hands on my work pants.
“I figured.” She doesn’t move. “What were you doing there, Nolan?”
I pause, gathering my thoughts. It’s a good question, and it’s not one I have an easy answer for. The idea to visit Jamila’s family came to me suddenly, like a fever dream, but once it was lodged into my head, I couldn’t get it out again.
“I wanted her to see the man that I’ve become.” It’s strange to say out loud. I feel vulnerable, too vulnerable. But if I can’t be vulnerable with my wife, then when can I ever let this feeling out into the world?
“That’s strange. You don’t even know her.”
“I remember her from back then. She was the one that led the negotiations with Carson. He had nothing but good things to say, and I hoped—” I stop, not sure how to explain.
“You hoped she’d understand.”
I move closer to her. “I didn’t expect forgiveness, and she didn’t offer it. But she knows why these things happen. I needed her to know that I wasn’t in control back then. I wasn’t the one that chose to attack her family. My boss ordered it, and I was a young man trying to prove myself to a father that never much gave a shit about me. I did my job out of duty, never out of pleasure. I did it to protect my men and my organization. I wanted her to know that.”
Keely wipes her face. I realize she’s crying, and my stomach twists with concern. When I move closer, she holds up a hand. “I’m fine. Okay? I’m fine. Just picturing the young version of you.”
“I was stupid back then. Bloodier than I needed to be. Desperate to prove myself.”
“I understand that better than you can guess.” She whispers the words. “I would’ve done anything to make my parents proud of me.” She talks about being a mistake, about how her parents never let her forget it. How her mother even said she would’ve been better off if she had aborted her daughter. It kills me, imagining the young Keely coming to grips with her own mother’s disdain, knowing there was nothing she could’ve done about it, and still hating herself for it. It makes me want to track her parents down and murder them both. But that’s probably counterproductive.
“They never should’ve treated you that way. Your parents, they didn’t deserve a daughter like you.”
She wipes her tears again, smiling. “Thanks, but I wasn’t anything special.”
“You are special. You are my something, my everything.”
“Nolan.” Her voice chokes. “I told you all that so you’d understand. This baby, I don’t want them to grow up like I did, with a dad who resents them.”
“I would never.” My hands ball into fists. I feel my temper start to flare, but I push it back. This isn’t the time to get angry—she has a right to feel this way. “I don’t care if that baby wasn’t planned. That doesn’t matter to me. All that matters is loving that child and building a family. What did I tell you when this started? What was I looking for?”
“I’m not your purpose, Nolan.”
“I don’t care if you think you are or not. All I know is I will be in my child’s life. I want to be their father, and I want to be the man you need.”
She starts crying harder. I move closer, but she backs away. “This baby is a mistake. Just like I was a mistake. You’re really telling me that doesn’t matter?”