Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“How did she know that?” It slips out of my mouth before I can pull it back.
“One thing I’ll give you a heads-up on is that this family is nosy. We’re always in each other’s business, but we mean well. In short, Dutton asked Eli for advice, which was overheard by Hawke, who told Billie, who asked me about it.”
I stare at her, trying to follow the chain of events. And then I recall someone saying Hawke has a big mouth.
“He didn’t propose.” My eyebrows furrow. “Well, he sort of did. He kind of said it in the moment. I wouldn’t really call that asking. Getting down on one knee and making a heartfelt speech is how you are meant to ask someone to marry you.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” She smiles.
“It’s not just me I have to think about. I have to consider Bentley as well,” I say, peeking into the living room at Dawson and Bentley painting. I hug myself.
She places a hand on my arm. “I understand that. And so does my son. But you make sure he asks you properly. No loopholes or half-assery. And I certainly expect a wedding. But not until you’re ready. No matter what happens, Posie, we’re your family if you’ll have us. We’re not going anywhere.”
I take a sharp breath, trying my hardest not to break into a million pieces. As if knowing, Honey collects the two plates and takes them out to Dawson and Bentley. “What are you painting?” I hear her ask.
Tears well in my eyes as I realize that it might’ve once been my parents doting on Bentley and me. Something I think about more than I care to admit because it’s something I can’t change. For so long, it had only been Bentley and me, and now the expansion of our family feels like it’s flooding my lungs with a breath of relief and grief.
When I initially moved away after I found out I was pregnant, I only looked forward. I left Bobbi in the past, and never did I think that being confronted by him again would make me feel like that scared and angry teen again. I hated that my parents were so easily and quickly taken from me.
I was in survival mode, cultivating every moment preciously, like time was about to run out.
In all those years, the only good thing that happened was Bentley.
And then I met Dutton.
When I first met him, I just assumed he was a stuck-up asshole who had more money than he knew what to do with, and so he decided to open a strip club. Granted, he’s still an asshole, but he has so many good qualities that lie hidden under the surface.
Today, I made a decision I never thought I’d make—taking away Bentley’s right to ever meet his father. And I’m scared he’ll hate me one day for it. But deep in my heart, I know it was the right decision. I just needed a bigger monster who had my back to help me make that difficult choice.
To pick up the blade when I was too weak to slay the demon while I created a sanctuary for him to return to.
When Bentley finishes his cupcake, Honey starts to tidy up the mess. Dawson stands and smooths the front of his pants down before he looks at me.
“Dutton is here,” he says.
“Come on, Bentley, let me see where your room is,” Honey says, taking his hand and leading him to the hallway. Bentley practically drags her to his room.
“Can I show you the bed me and Dutton made? It’s in Mommy’s room. And then I can show you my new LEGO set.” He barely takes a breath while chattering to her.
“That sounds exciting,” Honey replies excitedly. And I’m grateful for her because I don’t know what to expect with Dutton’s arrival. But I’ve decided to love the monster for all his glory. Not just the bits I don’t want to confront. But in the near future, there definitely will be a conversation about no blood or funny business in front of Bentley.
I open the front door as Dutton gets out of the car. His eyes find mine, and I walk toward him, relief sweeping through me that he looks perfectly fine—maybe a little tired but in one piece. He holds his arms out for me, and I pick up my pace, wrapping my arms around him as I step into his embrace. He cups the back of my hair and holds me tightly.
For a moment, we just stand here, holding one another, until I finally whisper, “Is he dead?”
“He’s gone, Mostriciattola,” he says, petting my hair. I hold him tighter, the wave of relief immediately slipping off me. Am I selfish for being happy that I have an out like this? Not every woman has someone who would literally kill for her. But I’m grateful that my cold-hearted man found me and never gave up.