Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“What she means to me,” I add.
“Fuck,” he mumbles, resting his elbows on the table and covering his face with his hands. No one says a word as we give him time to process what this is. It’s not a fling. It’s forever. I’m not sure how much time passes. I’m too focused on the woman in my arms who’s resting her head against my shoulder. I have my arms around her, and to be honest, I’d be content to just sit here with her like this for the rest of the night.
“Okay,” he says, lifting his head. “This is how this is going to go. First, I’m still pissed. No, I’m hurt that you kept this from me, but I understand why you did. It doesn’t mean that I like it.” He looks from me to Joey and back again. “Second, we need to set some boundaries. Dude, I can’t see you mauling my little sister twenty-four seven. So, when we’re all hanging out, the PDA needs to be kept to a minimum.”
“I’m going to touch him.” Joey makes her own demands. “And I’m going to kiss him. You can’t keep us from that. However, we will agree to keep it PG in front of you.”
“Fine,” he begrudgingly agrees. “Third, you—” He points to me. “Are still my best friend. So just because you’re all in love and shit doesn’t mean our guy time is over. That is nonnegotiable.”
I didn’t realize how worried I was about losing his friendship until he spoke his third demand. “Always.” I lean forward, offering him my fist, and he bumps his into mine.
“And fourth,” he says, “I don’t want to hear you two knocking boots. So you find time to do that shit when I can’t hear you.”
“Like when you’re asleep?” Joey offers.
“La la la la la,” he says, placing his hands over his ears, making us laugh. He shudders as if he’s repulsed and drops his hands. “Fifth,” he says, with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “You—” he points at me and then at Joey. “Are going to have to tell Dad.”
“I can handle Dad,” Joey assures him.
“You sure about that, little sister?” he asks, with a raise of his eyebrow.
“He’s just going to have to deal. If he wants to be in my life, then he needs to accept that Brock is now a huge part of it. Otherwise, he can pretend he no longer has a daughter. Mom does a fine job of it.”
I squeeze her tight, hating her bitch of a mother for treating her the way that she does. “Babe, this is your family.”
She turns to look at me, her hands landing on the sides of my face. “You’re my family, Brock. We’re in this together, right?”
“No question.”
She turns back to her brother. “Dad will just have to deal.”
Caleb grins and picks up his fork. “This I’ve got to see.”
Just like that, all is well again in our world. I admit I was expecting a far worse outcome, but he must see it. He has to see the way we gravitate toward one another and the way we look at each other. There’s nothing but love in my heart for the beautiful woman sitting on my lap. Now that we’ve jumped this hurdle, I can’t wait to see what the next sixty-plus years bring us.
CHAPTER
TWENTY
Joey
Playboy Williams Seen Leaving Hotel Room
That’s the leading headline on every major online tabloid site on the internet, and the one I woke to this Thursday morning.
With a deep sigh, I toss the covers off and grab one of Brock’s T-shirts left on the chair and slip it on. It’s huge but brings a smile to my face. Plus, it smells like him, which is my favorite part about stealing his clothes. Once I’m covered, I head downstairs to find some coffee. I’m certain there’s a pot sitting on the counter, waiting. Brock would make sure of it.
The kitchen is quiet as I pour myself a tall mug and splash in my favorite creamer. Only after my first sip do I open back up my phone and read the article. The photo is grainy, but clearly shows Brock exiting the room. My room. It was taken Monday morning after our night together, when he had to slip out before everyone was up and moving.
The article speculates over who was in the room. They suggest everyone from Gisele Sorenson to Ivana Donte, who Brock was rumored to have dated a handful of times two years ago. My only saving grace is the fact his head is blocking the room number. Otherwise, it would be easy for someone to figure out it was linked to the team, and specifically to me.
I click over to another site, which contains the same photo. This article comes with a quote from “someone close to Brock,” who confirms the room belonged to a group of five women he met at a club that Sunday night. That one makes me snort.