Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
“Jesus, no. He’s at peace with the fact Dexter’s left him. If he knew James had killed him . . .”
I get it. I look over my shoulder and see the table lacking all men and Goldie. They’ve been summoned. To plot and scheme and prepare to rain holy hell on Miami.
“It’ll be okay,” Beau says.
“It has to be.” Because who am I if I’m not Danny’s Rose? I wince, my hand automatically resting on my tummy, my mind giving me the perfect image of Daniel’s face. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m our children’s before I’m anyone else’s, including Danny’s. He wouldn’t have it any other way. But, and it’s a painful fact, I’m only who I am now because of Danny, and I’m not sure I can keep that up without him. “Are you going back to Miami with them?” I ask Beau, maybe for the sake of it, because I’m not sure we’ll get a choice. Although, admittedly, I’m uncertain which option the men will decide on. Leave us here, away from their watch but also away from the threats. Or take us with them where we’re close to their watch but in the thick of the danger.
“I’m going back,” Beau says.
“You sound like that decision is yours to make.” I laugh, and she tilts her head, eyebrows high, lips pursed.
“Oh, it’s mine,” she says surely. “You know, Rose, I remember following you into Hiatus one time. Do you remember? When they let us go to the beach that day?”
“Yeah, I remember.” I didn’t know Beau as well as I do now. I remember watching her standing on the shore looking up at the sun, eyes closed, and wondering if I’d ever seen such a broken woman.
“And I looked at you and thought to myself how together you were. How strong. A force of a woman to be reckoned with.”
My smile is ironic. “I’m thinking the same about you now.”
“We’re both like fucking yo-yos. Strong, weak, determined, defeated. I suppose it’s to be expected in a world where our men are who they are and we’re dealing with what we’re dealing with.” Her arm falls around my shoulders, hugging me to her. “But we have each other.”
I smile. It’s unstoppable. We have each other, and I don’t know what I’d do without her. “Love you, Beau.”
“You too. And if I’m going back to Miami, so are you.”
“Okay,” I agree, because amid all this uncertainty, I know one thing beyond doubt. I can’t survive this world without my friend available to hug me, comfort me, and pull my head out of my ass when I need it. I just need to convince Danny. Something tells me it’ll be a challenge.
Beau starts to stand, encouraging me up. “Come on, we need to check everyone is still alive after eating your curry.”
“My curry was amazing. What’s wrong with you people?”
“Rose, that thing”—she points at the pot as we walk to the table—“could be classed a lethal weapon.”
I lower next to Esther, feeling her eyes lower with me. “Is my son still alive?” she asks, turning her wine glass by the stem.
“Is Otto?” I retort, reminding my mother-in-law that I’m not the only one around here who has pissed off her son. I turn my smile onto her. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on with you two?”
“No.” Esther suddenly isn’t interested in me anymore. “Zinnea, are you performing tomorrow night?”
“Yes, darling, I most certainly am. Should I reserve you a table?”
“Why are we talking like we’ll be here tomorrow night?” I ask. “Unless you’re planning on staying?” I look at Esther, making sure she knows I’m talking to her. There’s not a cat in hell’s chance she’ll remain in St. Lucia if Danny’s in Miami. Unless, of course, he demands it.
“I’m not staying,” she blurts without thought.
“Oh good, neither am I,” I reply.
“You have that choice?”
“I do.” I smile brightly. “Do you?”
“Oh, I could slap your face sometimes.”
My nose wrinkles, and I lean in and kiss her cheek. “Love you too, Mom,” I say, and she rolls her eyes as I pull back. I know I exasperate her. I know she really would like to slap my face sometimes. But I also know that she appreciates my apprehension because she feels it too.
“Well,” Zinnea coos, pouring more wine, “in case anyone is interested, I will not be returning to Miami.”
Beau’s face is a picture of shock as she swings her gaze onto her aunt. “What?” I see panic rising in her. I also see her vehemently trying to force it back. “Who will I meditate with?”
“You don’t need me, my darling,” Zinnea says, her hand finding Beau’s on the table. “You have a lovely, gorgeous psychopath to take care of you these days.”
A little burst of laughter escapes me and Esther, but Beau’s eyes narrow, unimpressed. “James—”