Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Oh shit . . . It was a trap, and I fell right into it.
My throat thickens. I don’t want to reignite a battle. “I think they’re perfectly fine for horses.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes like that was not the answer she was looking for. But there was never pleasing her anyway, so I gave up that notion a long time ago. “Let’s not do this. Part of the deal we made was that our son wouldn’t be exposed to any lasciviousness.”
I balk. “What the hell are you talking about, Anna?” Glancing up the stairs, it pisses me off that I let her get to me. I lower my voice to whisper, “What lasciviousness has he been exposed to?”
“Miss Christine is someone you’re having sex with?”
I swear to fucking hell and back, my eyes practically bug out from my skull. My heart starts racing like I’m in trouble with the principal for fucking his wife. I just really hope this isn’t something Beckett told her, or he and I are going to need to have a heart-to-heart. “What are you talking about?”
“I thought it was some gray-haired lady out in that godforsaken town you’re from. Only to find out she’s younger than I am and pretty.” She’ll have to spell it out because I’m not leading her down this path. She glances up the stairs and deems the coast clear enough to lean in and whisper, “I found her in your bed.”
Fuck.
What I have with Pris is none of Anna’s business. “When would you have found her in my bed?”
“So you’re not denying it?”
I balk again, too astonished to control it, but I need to regulate my reactions. She loves to get a rise out of me. Keeping my voice low, I reply, “Not sure if you don’t understand how this works, but we’re not together. That means I don’t have to confirm or deny anything to you. Just like you don’t owe me any explanation about Marcel or any part of your life outside of what concerns our son.” Fuck me, what’s taking so long. “Beckett?” I shout.
Anna moves to the door and opens it, signaling me to step outside. I follow her but leave the door cracked. As soon as we’re outside, she crosses her arms over her chest like she still believes she has a say in the matter. “She’s rustic at best. Simply put, she’s pedestrian, and I don’t think she’s the kind of woman who should be around my son.”
“Our son.” My blood boils. I step down a couple of steps, needing air to cool me down. “She’s not fucking French, but she has a heart of gold, so don’t you dare—”
“Our son needs to be surrounded by people who lift him in society and give him the connections to elevate his opportunities—”
I start laughing because what the fuck am I listening to right now.
“It’s not funny, Tagger.”
“Well, it’s a good fucking thing he’s not dating her, then. But I am, so I’m going to warn you, Anna. You don’t say another fucking thing about her, or you’ll need to lawyer up again. Sounds like we’re heading in that direction anyway if you take that promotion.”
“Don’t turn this into something it’s not.”
I’m not getting caught in her games. I turn my back to her and take a deep breath. And then another. When I turn around, I exhale long and slow. “How did you get into my apartment?” It dawns on me a second too late. “The key for Beck.” Fuck. “It’s for him, not you. You are not allowed to enter my apartment without him with you, or I’ll have security lock you out completely. You understand?”
The door finally opens, and my son barrels out into my arms. “Daddy!”
I pick him up and hug him tightly. Over his shoulder, my eyes are still on his mother. “It’s good to see you, buddy.” I keep him anchored on my side with his little backpack on his shoulders and a toy horse in each hand.
“Look what I got. Just like Bluebelly and Skyward.”
Seeing him so happy is contagious despite what happened between Anna and me. This is what matters. Our son. “So cool. Can’t wait to play with you.” I set him down and scoot him toward Anna. “Give your mom a hug goodbye.”
Her demeanor mollifies, and she kneels to hug him. Kissing him on the side of the head, she says, “I love you. See you next Sunday.”
“Love you, too. See you soon.”
He trots down the steps, neighing. I’m sure she loves that . . . Marcel doesn’t stand a chance against the roots anchoring Beck to Texas. I follow him, but I stop when she says, “Thank you for doing that.”
I give her half a nod and walk away from her, scooping Beck onto my back. “Guess what?” I ask, peering over my shoulder at him.