Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Me: love you
I set my phone on airplane mode again and put it away. Maybe I should get a drink.
CHAPTER 42
LYLA
Turns out, it’s not called a cocktail hour because of the cocks. Google says something about New Orleans, bitters, and Prohibition. I’m setting my phone back on airplane mode when I hear my name again and look up to see Liam heading over. He’s smiling wide, his eyes twinkling, the way his brother’s do when he’s not being a perpetual asshole.
“It’s good to see you,” I say, returning his quick hug.
“Likewise. You look incredible,” he says as he pulls back.
“You look great as well.” My lips lift a little. “How have you been? How are you adapting to all of this?”
“It’s. . .well, let’s just say I’ve gotten used to having my breakfast and coffee ready for me in the morning, and I can’t remember the last time I did my own laundry,” he says. “That part took a little getting used to.”
“I bet it did.” I laugh. “But I guess it’s not a terrible thing to have to get used to.”
“Things could be worse.” He grins. “How have you been? How’s it going so far with my brother?”
“It’s. . .going.”
“Has he been pleasant?”
“Pleasant.” I laugh. “I don’t think Lach knows what pleasant even means these days.”
“Really?” He frowns. “I mean, he’s been awful for three years, but I thought when he saw you. . .”
“You thought he would swoop in like a knight on a white horse?” I ask.
“Pretty much.” He shrugs.
I can tell he means that, which further amuses me. Either he doesn’t know his brother as well as he thinks he does, or he’s kidding himself. There’s not much of a difference between the two. Either way, he’s clueless.
“He’s getting better, I will say that,” I say. “But you do know he’s crazy, right?”
“He was like this when you were with him three years ago.” Liam raises an eyebrow. He’s not wrong.
“I guess.” I bite my lip. “He used to be different, though. I still have hope. I’m just scared he’ll turn back into an asshole.”
“I’m sure it’s tough.” Liam sighs. “Bear with him. He has a lot to be angry about, but he’ll work through it.”
I blink at him. He has a lot to be angry about? I know Liam doesn’t know all of the shit I’ve been through, so I can’t expect him to be sympathetic toward me because of that. And he probably blames me for everything Lach had to go through during and after the attack, but what the fuck? Because he got screwed over, I should be okay with him uprooting my life like he had every right to do it? And the way he went about all of it? Hell no. Fuck all of these people.
“And I don’t?” I ask after a moment. “You don’t think this situation is fucked up?”
“I didn’t say that.” He points at the bartender behind us. “Do you want a drink?”
I debate it, as I look at the setup. There’s even a bartender ready to pour drinks. It feels like I’m at an open-bar wedding. All of the bottles behind him are open, but I’m not worried about anything happening to me as long as Lachlan’s around. He may be a lot of things, but I know he’ll always take care of me.
“A drink wouldn’t hurt,” I say.
I ask for gin and lime. Liam gets another whiskey.
“You know what I don’t understand? About the marriage thing,” I say after taking a few sips of my drink. “He can get any woman in the world to agree to this. Any. Why would he go through the trouble of finding me?”
“You’re serious?” Liam stares at me.
“Yes. I get it. We have something. . .special,” I say. “But he could have paid someone else off and told them he never wanted to see them, since this was just a means to an end.”
“You can’t be serious.” He keeps staring at me, searching my eyes like maybe I’m the one with some loose screws. “My brother was never, and I mean ever, going to marry anyone but you. Under any circumstance.”
“I don’t see why,” I say quietly, as my heart skips.
I’m full of shit. I know exactly why. We both know we can’t have what we share with anyone else. Still, that’s a lot of trouble for a fake freaking marriage. I say that aloud, and Liam shakes his head, still giving me that look.
“Has my brother told you anything at all?” Liam asks.
“About what?”
“About any of it,” he says. “I can’t imagine you’d be this upset if he’d told you, so I’m guessing he didn’t.”
I take a sip of my drink. “Well, I’m all ears.”
“I know it doesn’t feel like it because his anger overrides everything else, but he loves you so fucking much,” he says. “He spent three years looking for you and didn’t stop until he found you. He fucking gave up hockey to work for our dad. For you.”