Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
“You need to get a cab,” I tell them. “You were both drunk or high when you got here, and you’ve drunk even more.”
Sloane giggles in a twisted way. “Aw, are you worried about me?”
“Not you,” I snap. “I don’t want you hurting anybody.”
“Oh, relax.”
“I’m serious.” I put my hand on the car door. “Park the car outside the gate. Get it tomorrow. You need a cab. Or walk into town and get a hotel room for the night. I’m not letting you drive out of here.”
“We’re so impressed by you,” Sloane says sarcastically as I lead them to the gate. “You’re such an honorable, upstanding person. We’re in awe of your morality.”
I ignore her jabs. There’s no point rising—rather, falling—to her level. At least Jorge has shut his goddamn mouth. He’s like a cowed schoolboy as he gives me his car keys so I can park his vehicle outside the gates. After giving him the keys back, they walk toward town, some distance between them. My head hurts as I replay Sloane’s words about the court.
Emery deserves so much better. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. We only met recently. But screw it. It’s the truth. Emery deserves Callie.
Chapter Eighteen
Callie
I stare down at the forum posts. All I had to do was search my name with the word nanny, and they came right up. He lies about me being late for work, about me demanding more money in the middle of family trips. She said if we didn’t pay her, she’d leave me then and there, knowing full well it was too late for me to make alternative arrangements.
Gray returns to the back porch. His eyes have that same intensity as earlier, that same readiness to protect me. Even though I told him not to, warmth rose in me when he picked up Jorge. That big bad wolf, who took so much joy in bullying me, was suddenly reduced to the pathetic nobody I always knew he was.
I refresh the forum page. Whoa. Gray really put the fear of God into him. The post is gone, replaced with a message. This post has been deleted.
“What’s that?” Gray asks, walking up behind me and placing his hand on my shoulder.
So much for being good, but after what has just happened, I feel a physical ache for comfort. And not just any comfort. His comfort. I squeeze his hand and press down to feel his warmth against my shoulder. “It’s the forum post. He’s already deleted it. You must’ve freaked him out.”
“Good,” Gray snaps, pulls up a chair, and sits next to me, our legs touching. “I can’t believe she did that. And yet, no, I can. It’s her all over. She’s sick in the head.” After a pause, he says, “I know.”
“You know what?”
“The way you’re looking at me, you’re wondering how I was ever with a woman like that.”
“It does seem strange,” I murmur. “But I get it. Maybe she wasn’t already like that. Or your feelings for her blinded you to her bad parts.”
“No, it was nothing like that.” He chews the inside of his cheek, suddenly looking almost boyish.
I take one of his hands in both of mine, eager to offer him comfort. He sighs and shakes his head slowly.
“It was a one-night stand,” he tells me. “It was a serious mistake. I was drunker than I’d been up until then… or I’ve been since. She was stone-cold sober. She bragged about it after. She managed to get me to bed and somehow managed to make me, well, you know. I was sick with myself the next day. Wes’s sister? I’ve known Wes since we were kids. We’ve been friends forever. I hated myself. But I figured, one night. We can call it a mistake and move on. But then she came to me and told me she was pregnant.” He shudders.
“Oh, Gray,” I whisper. “You can’t beat yourself up. Everybody makes mistakes.”
I don’t tell Gray this, but part of his story actually makes me feel relieved. There was no love. There was no affection. There was nothing real between them, ever. That means—what, exactly? What am I thinking? It means that one day if he ever feels something for me, it’ll be as much his first time as it is mine. It means that this connection isn’t just new for me. It means that, on some warped level, he’s a virgin, too—an emotional one.
“And,” I go on, “you were extremely drunk and she was sober? That doesn’t sound right.”
“Tell me about it.” He groans. “I don’t know why she did it—we did it. I say she just because it doesn’t even feel like something I did. Anyway, when she told me she was pregnant, I was forced to tell Wes what had happened. Honestly, it felt good lifting that weight. He was livid. He didn’t talk to either of us for months. But then Emery arrived. Sloane freaked, but I did it anyway—I got a paternity test.”