Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 82060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
But I was clean out of patience.
I said what I had to say.
I got in my car, started it up and drove away.
Darius, no surprise, didn’t try to stop me.
* * * *
“Someone kill me,” I said to myself as I drove up my driveway and saw Lee Nightingale and Eddie Chavez sitting in the cute, wicker chairs on my front porch.
I’d already hit the remote, so I drove right into the garage.
I then hit the remote to close the door, but I knew this wasn’t something I could avoid.
So I didn’t.
I went into the house, dropped my bag and attaché, and no matter that I was dying to kick them off, I didn’t take off my pumps, because going up against those two, I’d need my height, even if it came in a three-inch stiletto heel and they’d both still tower over me. So I kept them on and headed to the front door to let them in.
I said nothing, just walked to the kitchen and put the island between them and me.
They followed me but barely came into the room.
I’d seen the newspaper articles. I’d bought but hadn’t read the book.
I knew they were semi-famous. Also that Lee and Indy had finally gotten together (and I was glad for both of them) and Eddie had found his own woman, a lady named Jet.
But I didn’t figure they were there to catch up.
I started it.
“I know why you’re here.”
“No, you don’t,” Eddie replied.
“He had chance after chance,” I informed him.
“No offense, Malia, but this isn’t about you. It isn’t about Darius. It’s about Liam,” Lee reminded me.
That shut me up.
“He’s nearly grown now. He’s a smart kid. And he can make a mature decision,” Lee said.
“He’s sixteen,” I pointed out.
“You got pregnant with him at sixteen, decided to keep him and…” he looked around, and really needed to say no more.
Yes, I had Darius’s help, but even if I hadn’t, we’d have been just fine.
Because I’d made my decision determined to be a good momma and give my son a good life.
And with the help of loving family and friends, I’d done that.
But I’d decided it at sixteen.
“I’ve already asked him if he wants to meet his dad,” I told them.
“When?” Eddie asked.
I bit my lip.
Eddie sighed and quietly urged, “Ask him again.”
I opened my mouth.
But Eddie beat me to it.
“He won’t forgive himself. For the decisions he made. The things he’s done. He’s buried deep under that shit. He left that life behind, and it wasn’t easy, extricating himself from all that. But he did it. Though, he’s still mired in it. He needs forgiveness. He needs redemption.”
“He needs to be reminded that he was always who his father raised him to be,” Lee put in. “He made some shit decisions and did some shady things. But he’s always been Darius.”
He’s always been Darius.
I held no hope for me. I was thirty-three years old, and I’d given the last seventeen years of my life to a ghost.
But I was also a mother.
And if I could give my boy what he deserved to have in this life, I was going to do it.
“I’ll talk to Liam.”
Eddie’s dimple popped out.
Lee smiled the famous Lee Nightingale smile.
Chapter Eight
You Killed It. Dead.
Now…
We’d been informed we could go in and see him.
And we were right outside his hospital room door.
I was anxious to get in there.
I was anxious about a lot of things. How Liam was going to react. Dorothea’s new knowledge, sixteen years late. If there was going to be any lasting effects of Darius’s head trauma.
I mean, a tire iron?
Bile filled my mouth.
Liam’s fingers curled around my forearm.
I stopped and looked at him, saw the expression on his face and twisted my arm so he’d let me go, but only so I could take his hand.
“I know this is going to be hard,” I started.
“Mom—”
“And we’ll have a lot of chats, on your time, on your schedule at processing things.”
“Mom, listen—”
“But now we have to—”
“Mom…shit,” he hissed and looked away.
I got closer and held his hand tighter and decided, in the current circumstances, not to give him guff about his language.
“Baby, I know this is hard and confusing and—”
He looked back at me. “Mom. Dad and I’ve been hanging since I was seven years old.”
I stood solid and immobile for a moment.
Then my head exploded.
* * * *
It was dark when he finally opened his eyes.
And as luck would have it (for me, not for Darius), I was alone with him in his room.
He turned his head, winced, and my heart contracted, but I stood strong.
No, I was sitting.
So I sat strong.
He looked at me and there was confusion, then softness.
“Baby,” he whispered, and there was a rasp in his voice.
I felt that rasp in the heart of me.
Ugh.
“Ally’s all right,” I told him.