Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Thank fuck.
My eyes welled up in a heartbeat, and I hugged him back just as hard.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
“Never,” he whispered vehemently. “It’s my outlook on the world, on society—not you. I’m walking around like a ticking timebomb, and the whole situation with Giulia’s made me feel so fucking helpless.”
I screwed my eyes shut and let the relief wash over me.
Fuck me, I was almost dizzy with it.
“The reason I haven’t taken my mother’s calls is because I can’t bring myself to give a shit anymore,” he admitted. “I’ve lived my whole life keeping my mouth shut and accepting their ivory-tower view of our society—the same ivory tower I grew up in. And I’m done.”
I sniffled and inched back to look him in the eye, and I wanted to hear his thoughts. This was clearly something that had bothered him for some time.
“I’m exhausted,” he murmured. “I’m sick of worrying about if I’m a good man or not, what the right thing to do is, and how to justify my wish to make those sons of bitches die a painful death.” He let out a breath and rested his forehead to mine, and his eyes fell closed. “The past few weeks, it’s been building up inside me slowly. I wondered if I was being ungrateful for not appreciating my mother more—because you never know what could happen—but then I felt sick to my stomach.”
I cupped his cheek and scratched the back of his head.
“I don’t think I want them in our lives anymore,” he confessed. “I know what they stand for, who they defend, who they’re against, and what they value. And I don’t share any of it. The thought of sitting down with them for some fucking brunch, listening to them talk about…whatever the fuck…all while the people I truly care for—”
“Hey,” I whispered. “You don’t have to. Let it all go. Okay?”
He drew a deep breath through his nose, eyes still closed.
“Most importantly, you can change your mind,” I continued. “Maybe we can let the kids see them…? If not now, then down the road. Or not at all, you know. I was just thinking—we talked about this once. That it’s better for Trip and Ellie to discover for themselves that your folks are…you know. And hey, maybe your nephews will grow up to be more like you. Maybe they’ll be little dicks. In which case, Ellie will put them in their place.”
He exhaled an unsteady chuckle.
At some point in the future, I’d get him to at least want to see his nephews. They adored him. They looked up to him. And they had a better shot at becoming good men if they were near West.
Speaking of good men…
“For the record, you are a good man,” I told him. “Both objectively and in my biased mobster opinion. You’re my fucking heart, West. And, occasionally, my moral compass.”
He smiled a little. “Occasionally.”
“It happens.”
He inhaled deeply again, like things were finally settling, and he nodded slightly and then kissed me on the forehead.
“I know what we need tonight,” he said and backed away. He reached for his phone, and before I could ask, he was calling someone. “Hello, this is West Scott. I have a Thanksgiving delivery scheduled for five PM for six people, and I was wondering if I could make a last-minute change.”
Wait, why?
“That’s right,” he said. “I want you to deliver it to the nearest shelter instead. My family and I won’t be needing the food.”
Whoa. What the fuck? It may be a shitty day, but I was still gonna be hungry as fuck. I’d barely eaten anything for breakfast.
What was he giving away our food for?!
I widened my arms and stared at him in disbelief.
He quirked a smirk at me. “Yes, that sounds good. Thank you very much—and happy Thanksgiving.” He ended the call. “There. Now we can—”
“Papi, that was my turkey. I had obscene plans for it. I was gonna make sex noises when I ate the whole thing, and you just gave it away?”
He snorted softly and came over to me again. “Today’s not our day, baby.”
“I don’t know. I thought things were lookin’ up,” I muttered. “I mean, we talked and all.”
“Then let me remind you of what we just watched in Finn’s car,” he murmured, and I flinched. “Yeah. Fuck Thanksgiving. I propose we pack up the children in the car, bring comfortable clothes, and stop somewhere for hoagies or burgers on our way to your parents’.”
I looked up at him.
“We both know Giulia’s going to force herself to sit here and act like everything is fine,” he said. “Unless Phil calls with a late cancelation.” He checked his watch. “They’re supposed to be here in two hours.”
He had a point. A big one. It was better if we helped her stay comfortable, and she preferred to stay home.