Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
“Without a doubt.” He winks and adds an upturn of his lips. My stomach drops. No, it does more than that. It plummets. This is too fast, too soon. Something is screaming deep inside of me to find a reason to leave. Brian may be a nice guy, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and sadly, that will never be the man sitting beside me. “I can’t.” The words don’t finish coming out because there, not even ten feet away, stands a man wearing a black suit, the shirt the exact same color, no tie, button undone at his throat, hands in his pockets, eyes laser-focused on me. And wouldn’t you know it? The guy staring back at me is none other than the man who completely obliterated my heart.
FOUR
Mace
It took a shit ton of swindling to get here; one look from my mom had me breaking down, telling her what happened earlier today and the plan I have not only for my career but for my family as well. Unfortunately, I’m not going to be telling Tyra that first and foremost. It sucked, but it had to be done. Telling your mom what a royal fuck-up you’ve been at not just a husband but a parent as well was tough to swallow. It also allowed me to get things off my chest. Somewhere along the way, my plans were skewered—thinking money solves every problem known to man, the upgraded house I was adamant about us moving into two years ago. And try as I might, I begged Tyra to take it, allowing her to buy me out at a fraction of the cost. She said no, leaving me stuck with the massive five-bedroom, three-bathroom house in a gated community with a community pool. That changed today, too. I sold the house for over fifty percent more of what we paid for it and found a small one-bedroom apartment for Von and me on my weekends, hoping like hell I won’t need it in the long run.
Tyra clocks me almost immediately, not that I was trying too hard at making my presence a secret. She’s fast on her feet, leaving the shit-for-brains guy who ordered a fruity cocktail at an upscale bar. I bet he’s the type who would offer to go Dutch, leaving Tyra to her own bill. Fuck me, some men can be worthless.
“Is Von okay?” are the first words out of her mouth as she quickly grabs her purse, not saying a word to the dude staring after her. The schmuck isn’t even attempting to figure out why Tyra is leaving him high and dry. He’s just sitting there.
“Von’s okay. When I left my parents’, he was sound asleep.” The television tuned to his favorite show was playing in the background. Not a cartoon; that would be too boring for our boy. He prefers to watch science experiments, trying to pinpoint where the issue lies and figuring out the right technique before the host does.
“Then why are you here?” Tyra asks, confused, rightfully so. We’ve been divorced for eleven months, nineteen days, and eight hours. Even when I was being the biggest prick on the planet, I knew down to the moment when our divorce was final, when I waived my rights to be there, knowing that I couldn’t watch her go through with it, secretly hoping that she’d call a halt to it, but I was the issue. It was never Tyra; it was all me.
“I need to talk to you.” The admission leaves me, not giving a fuck that we’re in a busy restaurant, the music low and sultry, the two of us blocking the way to the bar. My hand touches her forearm, sliding down until it locks around her wrist, bringing her closer without any hesitation if it means she won’t get pumped into from the side.
“Mace, surely, this could have waited.” Tyra steps back. My other hand comes around her lower back, not allowing her to leave my presence. The way she takes a sharp breath, our bodies plastered against one another, I’m sure she can feel what she’s doing to my uncontrollable body. My damn dick has a mind of its own when it comes to Tyra Ayala. She never went back to her maiden name. I knew from my time at the law firm some women never did, wanting to keep their married last name because it was their children’s given name, or there were a few who we’re so adamant about keeping the last time as a fuck-you to their now ex-partner. It didn’t take me long to realize family law wasn’t my area of expertise and I didn’t want any part of that, entertainment being more along the lines of my wheelhouse. Too bad that ship sailed once I got my head screwed on right, realizing too late that in order to have a career and a family, one would have to sit on the back burner. Which leads me here, running after my ex-wife, ready to make shit right, and hopefully leaving this clown in the dust.