Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
She was absolutely adorable.
A moan left my throat as I typed in the password: 1loveJadeToniLily.
Fuck.
As I waited for the laptop to boot up, all I could do was stare at that picture, remembering how happy I’d been.
By the time the main menu was up, I was on the verge of hyperventilating.
A whimper had my head turning, and I blinked as I saw the little girl staring at me with tears in her eyes.
“I… fuck.”
Fuck.
I couldn’t say fuck in front of a little girl!
Lily would’ve kicked my ass had I done that with her around!
I reached forward and picked the little girl up. Old muscle memory took over, and I cradled the little girl—my little girl—to my chest and looked down at her.
“Are you hungry?”
She blinked away her tears, and I studied her.
She really was adorable.
She had that fine, wispy baby hair that looked like it was spun from silk. Her curls were fuckin’ everywhere, and she looked exactly like me and nothing like her mother.
Her mother had long brown hair, dark brown eyes, and an angular face.
This girl was all me.
The computer beeped, making me look away from the little girl, and to the screen.
I frowned, and my eyes took in the reminder on the computer: Change the air filter, lazy bones.
I grinned at my wife’s reminder.
She wasn’t even here anymore, and she was still taking care of me.
Goddammit.
I clicked the X on the corner of the reminder and went to the Chrome app, smiling when I heard Lily in my head say that she would never cheat on Internet Explorer.
Rolling my eyes at that funny memory—funny, but it still fucking hurt, even the happy memories—I typed in the woman’s name into the Google search engine.
“Marianne Genevieve Garwood,” I muttered as I typed.
The search instantly picked up hundreds of hits.
I clicked on the very first article—a news article from Jackson, Mississippi—and waited for it to load.
It didn’t take long.
The headline read: Baby perishes in triple degree temperatures, locked in a car.
Drake Jackson Garwood, thirty-two, a prominent businessman for Corporate Crossroads, leaves infant son in car. The child, Raymond Jackson Garwood, succumbed to heat stroke due to the extreme temperatures in car.
I frowned.
Marianne Garwood, thirty, claims husband intentionally left their son in the car. We have not been able to reach her or Mr. Garwood for comment, but we did reach Mr. Garwood’s attorney, who confirmed his client’s assertions, cited a pending investigation and advised that all media inquiries would be handled by his office.
At press time, Drake Jackson Garwood has not been charged.
A chill passed over me as I back clicked and went to the next article. This one was dated six months later.
Drake Jackson Garwood acquitted for the involuntary manslaughter of his fourteen-week-old son. Mr. Garwood returns back to work but continues to work with other foundations to make sure that this doesn’t happen to any other father.
Something about that soured my stomach and made it summersault.
I back clicked and went to the next hit.
Marianne Garwood missing.
Marianne Garwood kidnapped.
Marianne Garwood’s car found in lake, husband inconsolable.
The more I read, the angrier I became.
I knew I didn’t have the whole story.
Knew it. Felt it in my bones.
My fucking heart hurt for Mary.
I closed my eyes and dropped my head to the back of the couch.
The baby in my arms cried.
Chapter 4
The closest I get to a spa day is when the steam from the dishwasher hits me in the face.
-Cobie’s secret thoughts
Cobie
Six months later
“I want you to help me die.”
I looked over at my friend.
“What?”
“I want you to help me die,” she repeated.
I was stunned.
“Marianne…”
“Please,” she whispered. “It hurts.”
“But your husband…”
“Wants me to suffer.”
That sounded like her pain talking.
“Honey,” I said softly. “You have to fight this.”
“I’m dead already. It’s only a matter of time.” She took in a deep breath. “It hurts.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“You haven’t even seen this week’s scans!” I whispered.
She looked away.
“Cobie.” She closed her eyes for long moments. “I got them back yesterday.”
“But you just told your husband that you—”
She interrupted me. “I lied. I got them back yesterday. The cancer… it’s spread.”
“But this experimental treatment…”
She laughed harshly. “It’s not experimental. It’s bullshit. Drake found this quack doctor to talk out of his ass. I keep going to my real doctor because I know that whatever bullshit this quack is shooting me up with isn’t working. I… Cobie… I think it’s just a show. They’re acting like they’re helping me when in reality they’re not doing anything. He hasn’t even looked at my scans, not even once. He just keeps saying he’s going to make me all better.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Hearing her say this about Drake of all people was alarming.
Drake was everything any woman would want in a husband… wasn’t he?
I didn’t know what to say.
“Okay, honey,” I said. “I believe you… but what you’re asking of me… I can’t do that.”