Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Her eyes follow my son, then she asks, “He’s adorable. How old is he?”
“Three.” I walk closer to her and peek into the stroller. “Awww…” I give her a questioning look. “A boy?”
“Yes. He’s just turned one.”
“I miss the days Vincent used to sleep like that,” I chuckle. Gesturing toward the shelves with children's stories, I say, “This way.”
“Do you have any recommendations? Which books does your son enjoy?”
Again a chuckle escapes me. “He’s obsessed with Mighty Pup Power. Nothing else will do.” I take a copy off the shelf and hand it to her.
I glance at Vincent to make sure he’s okay.
“We have a dog, so I’m sure Roman will love this one.” Her gaze browses over the other books. “This one looks good. Until he understands, he’ll be able to look at the pictures of the animals.”
“That’s a good pick.”
The customer chooses three more books before we head to the counter.
“I’ve walked past this bookstore a hundred times and always wanted to come inside.” Our eyes lock, then she adds, “Oh, I’m Rosalie Vetrov.”
Her last name makes the hair on the back of my neck rise.
“I’m Everleigh.” I hesitate for a moment, then ask, “Are you Russian?”
She shakes her head. “No, my husband is. I’m Sicilian.”
My heart sets off at a crazy pace, and I glance at Vincent again.
Chill, woman. Not all Russians are bad.
Nodding, I ring up her books and pack them in a paper bag. “Will that be all?”
“Yes.” She hands me the cash, then blurts out, “I don’t know any other mommies. Well, mommies with children close to Roman’s age. Do you want to have coffee sometime?”
Not wanting to offend her by declining to her face, I say, “Leave your number, and I’ll give you a call.”
She writes it down on a sticky note, then smiles happily at me. “It will be nice to hang out with someone who has a child.”
It would.
“I’ll call soon.”
With a friendly wave, Rosalie leaves the store. My eyes follow her until she disappears from my sight, then I glance down at her phone number.
My wild heartbeat calms down, and I let out a sigh.
I probably won’t call.
Still, I tuck the sticky note in a drawer before I walk to where Vincent is playing with his cars.
With Vincent fast asleep in his bed, I leave his nightlight on before heading to the kitchen. I wash our dinner dishes, and when everything is tidy, I check that the front door is locked.
Just as I turn around, the urge to check overwhelms me. Letting out a sigh, I triple-check the locks, annoyed that I’m not able to break the habit.
Switching off the lights, I walk to my bedroom, leaving the door open so I can hear if Vincent calls for me.
I open the top drawer of my dressing table and make sure the gun is still in the little locked box.
I bought a weapon a week after I moved to Pasadena. I’m not pro-weapons, but I wanted something I could use to protect us.
Shutting the drawer, I climb beneath the covers and switch off my bedside lamp.
Darkness fills the room, and closing my eyes, I snuggle my face into my pillow.
In tonight's fantasy, Vincent and I are at the beach.
I hear Vincent’s laughter above the sound of the waves and smile as I watch him build a sandcastle.
Of course, I’m wearing a bikini, and there are no stretchmarks in sight. I’m perfect.
Glancing over the stretch of beach, I see a man walking toward us. He’s wearing black cargo pants…no, black swimming trunks. His skin is golden from the sun, and he has a six-pack that makes me drool.
Then our eyes meet, and of course, I’m shocked.
I climb to my feet, and tears of happiness spill over my cheeks.
The corner of Alek’s mouth lifts in a hot grin. ‘I’ve looked everywhere for you.’
‘You found us.’
We run into each other arms…crap, no, wait. I scoop up Vincent and then run toward Alek. He embraces us in his strong arms, promising never to leave us again.
I let out a huff, and punching my pillow, I scowl at the darkness.
He never left me. This fantasy sucks.
My thoughts threaten to go down the forbidden path as I remember what it felt like to make love to Alek.
Sadness fills my chest, and missing him more than anything, I bring up the memory of Alek’s smile.
I miss you, Alek. Every single day.
I wish you could meet our son. He looks so much like you.
I love you.
Finally, I drift off to sleep.
‘Choose who dies,’ Prodi orders.
I’m tied to a chair, and in the other chair is Vincent. Not Alek’s brother but my baby boy.
Alek glances between us, his features torn with desperation.
‘Choose!’ Prodi shouts, aiming his gun at my baby.
‘Noooooooo!’ I shout, the most horrible feeling ripping through me.
Darting upright in bed, my cheeks are wet with tears, and my breaths are racing over my lips.