Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“Because I can do math,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Selah was twenty-five when I first met her at one of Duke’s shows, and Jasmine was four at the time. I remember feeling ancient despite being merely eight years older.”
“What show?” Talia wanted to know.
“I went to hear him play after I heard he moved out of his parents’ house and in with her. That night, Selah introduced herself to me.”
“He was cheating on you with her, and she had the balls to come talk to you?”
“I found it liberating, actually,” she said with a sigh. “I had already served him with divorce papers, and that night I felt so good, so free. I could finally wash my hands of him knowing I’d done everything within my power during our marriage to make it work. We wanted two very different things, two very different lives.”
“You didn’t care about the cheating?” Talia asked. “Because I would definitely care about the cheating.”
“Oh, I cared, that’s why he was living with his parents in the first place.”
“So there were other women besides Selah? He was cheating on both of you?”
“That’s not important. Dredging up ancient history is not good for the soul.”
“Yes, but—”
“What is important is that I was working full-time, and with the raise I got at the beginning of that year, I was confident I could take care of the two of you myself as a single mother.”
“So you didn’t need him.”
“That’s right. And he hated doing anything but his music, so that all worked out. The last time I saw him at the club, that night with Selah and Jasmine, hearing her tell me that she supported his dreams, I knew that both of us were getting exactly what we wanted.”
I exhaled sharply, and she turned to me. “You have something to say?”
“You’re a saint, that’s what I have to say.”
“Oh, I agree,” Talia chimed in.
Etta chuckled. “You’re all a bit biased to my side of the tale. I’m sure Duke and Selah’s children believe their parents’ story is very romantic.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Talia said grumpily. “But I can say this: she may be eight years younger than you, but she looks eight years older.”
“That makes me happy,” I told her.
“Yeah, me too,” Talia said with a grunt.
Etta shook her head at us. “That is not godly.”
“No, it’s not,” I teased her. “May I ask you somethin’?”
“Certainly.”
“Is his first name really Duke?”
She chuckled. “No, that’s a nickname, but it’s his stage name, so everyone calls him that. His real name is Edward Lee Webster.”
“So, then, Ross is your maiden name?”
“It certainly is. I changed it right after the divorce was finalized and my father was more than a bit pleased to have me take his name back.”
“Yes, he was,” her sister Viola said with a smile as she stepped in beside us, putting her arm around Talia’s shoulders. “That’s why Julie and I didn’t take our husbands’ last names when we got married. It made Daddy so happy when Etta changed hers back.”
“I gave Lang and Talia the choice, but they both wanted to have the same name as me, so that made sense.”
“So there are Websters in there,” I said, pointing to the front room, “but only Rosses out here.”
“That’s right,” Viola concurred, nodding. “I feel very good about that.”
“I do too,” Talia said, her voice back to sounding like herself, no longer wobbly. “I can’t wait for you to meet Ethan, Mama. He should be here soon.”
Lang grunted. Loudly.
“Uh-oh.” Viola chuckled. “There’s a story there.”
“Is there something wrong with Ethan?” Etta wanted to know.
“Yeah, Langston,” Talia drew out his name, staring daggers at her brother. “Is there some issue you’re having with Ethan?”
“Hypocrite,” I coughed.
“No, ma’am,” he said to his mother, crossing his arms.
“You see that?” Viola motioned to him, looking at her sister. “Arm crossing signifies a closing off. He’s no longer open to other people’s thoughts on this matter.”
“I love that you’re going back to school to get a degree in communication and marketing,” Talia told her aunt.
“Thank you.”
“I don’t love it,” Lang groused.
I bumped him with my elbow. “Be nice.”
“Are you certain you have nothing to say about Ethan before he gets here?” Etta asked pointedly.
“Yes, ma’am.” Lang clipped the words.
“And is there anything you would like to say to me about this man here, whom I love and adore, and who I can’t help but notice is wearing the shirt your sister got you for Christmas?” She posed the question to her son.
“Is it really?” Talia had no idea, and she’d apparently bought it for him.
“It is,” Etta apprised her daughter.
To have an encyclopedic memory like that was impressive as hell, as well as scary.
“Oh, well, now, he’s wearing your clothes, is he?” Viola prodded Lang. “That’s a sign of possessiveness. It’s like a king clothing his knights in his colors.”