Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 113617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“I’m not ever gonna ask that, Genny,” he assured, rubbing her back.
He said it. He meant it.
It was going to be tough, in the beginning.
But if this guy could get a lock on whatever was fucking with his head that made him be a dick to her, Duncan was willing to do it.
“Yeah,” she snuffled. “That’s how you get to be a go-to.”
He grinned, bent, kissed the top of her head, and then asked, “So, he lost it with you this morning and what?”
“I’ve texted and told him when he gets a handle on it, he can call me, and we’ll talk it out.” She tipped her head back again. “He has not called me.”
“You need to give him the go-to speech, beautiful.”
“Wh-what?” she asked, blinking up at him and lifting a hand to swipe her cheek.
Mascara disaster.
He didn’t say that.
“Gen, if he’s the guy I think he is, and that’s just what I know with you wanting to keep him in your life, then he’ll hear the go-to speech and sort his shit. Give him time to get his head straight. And then call him. It’ll be okay.”
“I’m not making excuses for him, I’m saying, you live, you learn, and although I found I couldn’t forgive Tom for sullying our marriage bed, Tom couldn’t forgive me for not only not being able to forgive him, but also not turning to him, which was what sent him searching. You see, Bowie, he knew he was my go-to and that meant a lot to him. And when I hit that crisis, I didn’t go to him. He saw that as a betrayal. The thing is, he turned right around and instigated the same thing, because honestly, he didn’t try too hard to reach me. So I get we both fucked up, though it isn’t immature to say his was a way huger fuckup. But we can’t do that, you and me. We can’t hit the skids and not talk about it. You can’t coast in a marriage, a relationship. You have to keep your eye on the ball all the time.”
“Okay, so I have this clear, if you clam up and get in your head, I got your permission to shake you out of it?”
She nodded vehemently. “Absolutely. I cannot even begin to tell you how ridiculous and pathetic I feel that my marriage ended because my husband and I didn’t talk to each other. And then it was too late. Now you and I have found each other again. And that’s an impossibility. And you mean so much to me, I honest to God don’t know what I’d do if I threw you away because I didn’t open my mouth and speak.”
And you mean so much to me…
Yeah, he could be down with this guy in their life.
Totally.
“Well, just pointing out, seems like you’re not havin’ a lot of issues with that right about now,” he teased.
Her body jerked.
Then she melted into him.
And did it laughing.
Thank fuck.
He tucked her even closer and held her through it.
When it was waning, it sucked, but it had to be done.
“I’m sorry you went through that. I’m sorry he did that to you. And I’m sorry you lost him. I also hope he gets it together so in the way you got, you can have him back.”
Right.
He got that out.
Now the easy.
“But I’m glad you lived and learned it, honey. Because I honest to God don’t know what I’d do if I lost you either. So let’s both keep our eye on the ball and make sure that doesn’t happen.”
She burrowed in and muttered, “That’s a deal.”
“Now, I remember you’d rather cut off your own hand than serve meatballs that were not freshly cooked with your sauce, so by my estimation, the time is now to get frying. But I would not be doing my job if I didn’t share with you that your mascara is a disaster so you probably should get on that first.”
She lurched out of his arms and her hands flew to her face.
“Ohmigod!” she cried.
“Can I start frying while you’re in the bathroom wiping?” he requested.
She nodded and took off, bossing, “Low heat, Bowie. Browned, not burned.”
Like he’d forget that.
He’d had meatball duty a lot back in the day.
But he might often be veggie, there was one thing he agreed with his dad about.
A man knew how to cook meat.
The skillet was already out.
He found the meatballs in the fridge.
She didn’t skimp on those either.
There had to be three dozen of them.
Jesus.
Gen re-joined him to look in on the sauce while he was putting them (or at least the first round of them) in the skillet.
She stayed close, probably to make sure he did it right.
So he curled an arm around her shoulders and held her there while he completed this task.