Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Dad.” I hear Jaxon call me, bringing me back to the present. “Can you make me pancakes?” he asks.
“Yeah, buddy,” I say, walking into my walk-in closet and getting a T-shirt. I won’t go downstairs without my shirt. The last time I did that, Murielle rubbed her finger down my back and then put her palms on my chest. “Go brush your teeth,” I tell him, and he tosses the covers off and walks out of the room.
I pick up my phone, and I don’t know why I’m hoping to find a text from Evelyn, but I see nothing from her and delete the text I sent her last night. I also store her number under her father’s name. Walking downstairs, I start my coffee. I take some sausage and some turkey bacon out and get those started, then start making some pancakes. Jaxon comes down ten minutes later dressed almost like me. “You want some orange juice?” I ask him, and he nods, walking over to the fridge and pouring his own glass. “Want blueberries in yours?”
He shakes his head. “Chocolate chips,” he says, smiling.
“You play in three hours,” I tell him, and he slaps his head. “So blueberries?”
“Yes, please,” he says, getting on the stool in front of me, and we talk about the plays he’s going to make. We are both sitting down, getting ready to eat when Murielle comes downstairs dressed in short shorts and a tank top.
“Morning,” she says, walking over to the coffee machine. She makes her coffee and sits on the stool next to me. “What time did you come home?”
“Not late,” I answer, eating and ignoring the fact that she is sitting so close to me. She reaches over me to grab a slice of turkey bacon, and I glare at her. She knows I won’t tell her to fuck off in front of Jaxon.
She just smiles at me. “What time do you have to be gone today?”
“We leave here at ten,” I say of Jaxon and me. “His game is at eleven.”
“I wish I could come, but I have a foundation meeting. We are going to be doing a toy drive in December,” she tells me. I will give her that—she is very involved with the foundation. I mean, she has to be since she’s the captain’s wife. “Sorry, buddy.”
“That’s okay,” he says, getting up and placing his plate in the sink. “Can I play on the iPad a bit?” he asks, and I nod.
“We leave in forty-five minutes. So you get thirty minutes on the iPad. Is your bag packed?” I ask. He nods as he skips off to the couch, grabbing the iPad.
“Are you going out after the game?” she asks, and I look over at her. “I’m just wondering.”
“I don’t ask you where you go, so you don’t ask me.” I get up, putting my plate in the sink.
“You could ask me,” she says, and I turn around and look at her leaning against the counter. “I’m an open book.”
“Oh, you are open all right,” I say under my breath. I watch as she drinks her coffee, and I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it’s the fact that I had Evelyn. Maybe it’s the fact that I was happy for two point three seconds. Maybe it’s the fact that I finally admitted I deserve to be happy instead of miserable. I deserve to wake up every morning and not dread seeing the woman who shares my house. “Aren’t you tired?” I ask, and she just looks at me, confused. “Of this?” I point at her and then at me. Her eyes show me that she is still not getting it. “Of living a lie? Of pretending? Don’t you want to be open and free?”
Her eyes glare at me as she looks to the couch to make sure that Jaxon isn’t listening. “I don’t know about you,” she says, her voice low, “but I sleep very good at night.” She folds her arms under her chest. “Now if you want to change things and come back to our bed, I wouldn’t say no.”
“Are you insane?” I say. “Murielle, it’s over. It’s past over. It’s buried and dead.” I look at her, and I ask her again.
“Do you love me?” She just looks at me.
“Yes,” she says, and I laugh, shaking my head. “I do love you.”
“Okay, what do you love about me besides my money and status?” I tilt my head to the side.
“We have a good life,” she says. “A great life. We are both . . .”
I put up my hand. “Save it, Murielle.”
“Why are you like this?” she asks. The doorbell rings, and I look over at the camera to see it’s her fuck buddy.
“Your scratching post is here,” I say, pushing away from the counter. I look back at her, stopping beside her. “If you change your mind, we can talk about it.”