Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“I wasn’t leaving. I was”—I throw my hands up in the air—“I don’t know what I was going to do to make it right. I was going to call them and tell them of my intentions.” I’m pulling at straws here. “I had no idea what I was going to do besides punch a hole in a wall or something. I was going to call Parker and ask her to help me. I just want…” I look at her, my beautiful wife. My wife. “I promised to make you happy.”
“There is a shit storm brewing out there.” She points to the window. “And tomorrow when we wake up we have to face it head-on. But tonight I want to dance with my husband. I want to drink way too much champagne and I want to eat cake, because today I married my prince and that is what they do.”
“Angel,” I say to her, “the shit storm is going to be a tornado. It’s a level five hurricane, but tomorrow we face it head-on together,” I agree with her and I go to her, wrapping my arms around her waist while I kiss her wet cheeks. “But tonight my wife wants to dance with me, drink too much champagne, and have me eat cake off of her.”
She smiles at me. “I didn’t say that.”
“I’m improvising.” I kiss her lips and she kisses me back. “I’m sorry I made you cry on our wedding day. I’m sorry I let the fear of losing you take over.”
“You love me?” she asks me.
“More than my life,” I answer her without missing a beat.
“Then let’s have tonight. I’m not letting anyone ruin my wedding.” Her hands go to my neck. “Including my husband.” She winks at me.
“Holy shit, I’m married.” She laughs as she throws her head back and laughs again as she lets me go, picks up her dress as she runs outside, and yells to all of Vegas, “I’m married.” Then she looks at me. “I’m married.”
I stand here watching her glow. “You’re married.”
I don’t know what happens, but all of a sudden, our song is playing again. I stick my hand out for my wife. “Dance with me again?”
She puts her hand in mine, her engagement ring glistening in the light, as I take her in my arms and dance with her on the balcony sixty-one stories on top of Vegas, with the lights shining and the fountains shooting up. We stand out here as we sway to the music that stops after a while. We kiss, soft little kisses. We come inside and drink way too much champagne and I get to eat plenty of cake off of my wife. And I love every fucking second of it. Till the pounding at the door the next day. I raise my head from the pillow, the sunlight coming in as I look over and see it’s noon.
“What is that?” Allison gets up on her elbow as the pounding continues. “Is that construction?” she asks as I get up and put on a robe that is embroidered with Mr. on it. Allison is putting hers on that is marked Mrs.
The pounding starts again and this time I hear voices shouting, “Open that door or we will break it down.”
“Oh my God.” Allison gasps out when Andre opens the door and four people follow him. Matthew, Karrie, Cooper, and Parker.
“Sir. They…” He tries to explain, but Matthew is pushing him out of the way.
“You.” He points to Allison with his finger. “Get your shit. We are leaving.” Then he turns to me. “And you, conniving little swine.”
“Matthew,” Karrie says from behind him, holding his arm as he rips it away.
Allison stands next to me.
“I said pack your shit.” He raises his voice and it’s enough.
“You better watch your tone with her,” I say as I put my hand in front of her.
“You don’t say a fucking word.” He points again at me. “You married a rapist. A fucking rapist,” he spews out of anger and the three women in the room gasp out while Cooper puts his hand on Matthew’s shoulder.
“Son.”
“Get out,” Allison says softly from beside me.
I turn to see that tears are streaming down her face, but she doesn’t stop.
She charges him, her hands flying to his chest as she pushes him, yelling, “Get out of here or I’m going to call security.”
I run after her, grabbing her around the waist to stop her from charging him again.
“I’ll leave when your shit is packed!” he yells even louder. “Fuck it, we don’t even need it. Get your purse.”
“That is the last warning you are going to get from me. I don’t give a fuck how you talk to me, how you treat me, but you will not talk like that to my wife,” I say as calm as I can. “Ever,” I say between clenched teeth. “You treat her with the respect she deserves or I’ll have no trouble knocking your ass to the floor,” I say to him as he advances and we square off, face-to-face, chest-to-chest.