Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
The worse they treat a girl usually means the more they like them.
If that is the case, my husband must really love me.
He must love me to death.
Phoenix, Arizona.
“All I’m saying is that we’d be better off.”
I look over at Ling from the driver seat. My brow furrows. “What’s this we shit?”
She rolls her eyes, and it forces a smile out of me. It’s so easy to rile her. A look of irritation crosses her face. “We are partners, Jules.”
My lip curls. “Don’t call me Jules.”
It’s her turn to grin. “But it suits you so well.” I glare at her, and she chuckles. “All right. I won’t call you Jules anymore.”
“Or any of your stupid nicknames.”
She nods, but turns to hide her sultry smirk. “Or any of my stupid nicknames.”
We drive in silence a long while before Ling speaks through a yawn. I don’t blame her. We’ve been driving for two hours, after a thirteen-hour-long flight from Sydney, Australia. We’re officially running on fumes. She reaches up to cover her mouth as she drowses. “So where are we staying?”
Ling has worked with me now for four years.
Losing Twitch was hard on her. She was so lost beforehand that losing him pushed her over the edge. She wanted to be as far away from the warehouse as possible, as far away from reminders of Twitch as she possibly could be. Not to mention, she didn’t exactly see eye to eye with Lexi.
Within a year of Twitch’s passing, Happy and I shut the warehouse down. Not that we had a choice. After the asshole left us, business started failing. The feds were weighing in on us, watching us, and listening in, hiding behind every street corner. Twitch’s death brought unwanted attention our way. It just wasn’t worth the risk anymore.
The asshole. He fucked up everything we’d worked for. Luckily, the money we had stashed away was more than enough for us.
Fuck.
It was more than enough to support our children’s children’s children. Then Happy went and sold the mansion, and all traces of Twitch were gone. All traces, that is, except one.
Little AJ. Antonio Julius. Antonio Junior.
A smile slowly spreads across my face as I think about him.
When we found out Lexi was pregnant, it shocked us. Twitch was never that careless, and although we liked Lexi, honestly, I never thought she’d let something like that happen. She seemed so in control, not at all reckless.
Then again, Twitch had a way of disarming even the most composed of people. It was his gift.
Ling hated Lexi for a long time. She didn’t have to say the words out loud, but we all knew that Ling wanted that baby, felt she deserved that baby. Three months into the pregnancy, Lexi was rushed to hospital.
I’d immediately thought the worst.
Happy called me and told me to get my ass down there. So I did. I boarded the next plane to Sydney, and when I arrived, what I saw before me will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Lexi was almost skeletal. She looked as if she hadn’t eaten in months.
Nikki sat beside her hospital bed, holding her hand and pleading with her to eat something, tears flowing down her cheeks, petrified for her friend.
We all were.
Happy turned to me then, and he whispered, “The baby’s gonna die.”
A statement. No question. His words were a declaration.
I’m sure we all thought it, but hearing them out loud was something different. Something real. It did something to me, urged me on. I wasn’t about to let that happen.
That baby was the last trace of my best friend.
So I stayed. I sat by the hospital bed for an entire month, leaving only to shower and change clothes. In that time, I spoke of Twitch, and although Lexi’s eyes remained dead, I knew I had her attention. A week of the nurses threatening her with an intravenous feeding tube and my non-stop chatter, Lexi started to eat again.
The following week, Lexi spoke. She turned to me, her gaunt face causing immeasurable amounts of pain in my soul. Her voice hoarse, she placed a hand on her belly, and asked, “Did you ever meet his mom?”
I shook my head. “No, baby. She wasn’t a good mother. I’m glad I never met her.”
Her throat moved as she blinked through tears. She clutched at her belly harder, her fingers curling around the material of her nightgown. “I’m not a good mother either.”
I watched the tears trail her cheeks with a heavy heart. “Do you want this baby?”
Her mouth opened, but no words formed. After trying again and again, she finally managed, “I don’t know.”
There was a sure way I’d know if she wanted this baby. It was cruel, but I had to do it. I had to know. I sighed quietly. “Okay. I know a guy. I’ll talk to him.”