Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Then again, had I not known that Drake was doing something illegal at my place, I wouldn’t have kicked him out. I would’ve suffered in silence due to him being my best friend’s widower.
But he had been doing something bad, and though Dante had kept it on the down low, I knew that they’d found something substantial enough to warrant me kicking him out within a few days of finding out that he’d been doing something that I might not agree with.
“I think that’s a bullshit answer,” he countered. “Marianne told me you had a lot of money, thanks to your grandfather dying. This house would sell for upwards of a mil. You didn’t have to sell the one I was living in.”
“So, you wanted me to sell the one I was living in?” I countered right back.
His eyes narrowed. “A single woman doesn’t need a house like this. One that takes a lot of upkeep. A single woman needs a one-bedroom apartment with security so she doesn’t fear for her life.”
I shivered slightly as I took in his words.
He was staring at me like I was a nuisance. Like he was pissed off that I’d decided to go forward with the treatment.
Fucker.
“I love this house. This was the place that I grew up. The only place in the world that holds good memories for me. I’m not selling the house I’m living in, regardless of whether you want me to or not. You’re not my husband. You’re not even my friend. You’re my dead best friend’s husband. I’m sorry you were displaced, but I gave you sufficient time to move out and find another place. I’m sorry if you didn’t utilize that time wisely. I gave you what was required by law and then some.”
Drake narrowed his eyes. “You’re not my friend?”
“Drake, I don’t even know you. The only time I ever saw you was with Marianne, and even then, it was sparingly. To be honest, I felt like you hated me. You saw I was around, and immediately left the room. I think the most time we spent with each other was right after Marianne’s death, but that was only because I was helping you with funeral arrangements.”
The only contact we had was when I got the check from him each month for rent. We’d share a few words, maybe a short conversation, but that was it. There was nothing more to Drake and me.
“Why were you with Dante?”
I frowned.
“Why not?”
“I don’t like him.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“He and Marianne shared a fling. They had a baby together. A baby they conceived while we were still very much married. When she got sick, she came home, but that was only because she knew that I could afford the chemo treatments and he couldn’t.” He narrowed his eyes. “And now you’re with him. You were supposed to be my friend.”
“I met Dante six weeks ago. He helped me when I needed it most. He was a friend when I didn’t think I needed one. He’s a good man, and I don’t know what happened with Marianne and him. I’ve tried valiantly not to think about it. Yes, they do share a kid.” He knew that, right? “But from what I understand, it was Marianne that deceived him, and not the other way around. Dante never knew that Marianne was married, or he wouldn’t have done a single thing with her. I guarantee that.”
And I did.
I knew with all my heart and soul that Dante wouldn’t have slept with Marianne had he known the full details of what had taken place. He would’ve stayed far, far away from her.
Yet, he hadn’t.
Which led me to believe that Marianne hadn’t shared a single detail about her relationship with Drake.
Hell, I wasn’t even sure she shared anything about herself even after he knew Marianne was married.
“Dante’s not a good guy.”
My brows rose.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked. “He’s not. I don’t think he should have custody of that kid.”
That kid being Dante’s child, Mary, whom he shared with Marianne.
“Why?” I asked.
I was truly curious now.
I’d seen Dante with Mary.
I knew damn well that he was a good father.
“He hurt people.”
I wanted to laugh at that pathetic excuse.
“Why?”
“I heard things about what he did to the people that tried to hurt his family. He made his own sister kill herself.”
I narrowed my eyes. “He most certainly did not.”
“He most certainly did. Did you know that his sister was the one who was driving the car that day that his family died?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know that she was on drugs?”
I clenched my jaw.
“He knew that she was a few days later. I was in town that day that he confronted her in the hospital. I was there with Marianne.”
I didn’t show my feelings at all.