Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
My mouth was impossibly dry.
Elden did speak. He didn’t offer explanations or apologies. He was just staring at my mother because it was clear she wasn’t done. Her gaze sharpened onto him.
“And I know I’m married to kind of a depraved badass who has somewhat of a reputation, but when it comes to her,” she jabbed her finger at me without looking at me, “I can get pretty depraved, buddy. So just remember that.”
My mother was being sincere. There was violence behind her words I’d never once heard from her. With my father, she’d always been soft spoken, timid. With Swiss, she was definitely not soft spoken or timid. But she was never openly aggressive. That wasn’t who my mother was.
Until now.
When she turned her glare at me, I restrained my flinch. “We are going to speak in my closet,” she pointed in the direction of her and Swiss’s bedroom. “Now,” she added in a tone that left no room for argument.
I took one last panicked gaze at Elden, unsure of what to do. I knew that making a scene in the kitchen would not be the move. Even though I didn’t want to leave him, I did what my mother said.
I walked to her and Swiss’s wing of the house on autopilot, feeling numb and also kind of … relieved. This was not the way my mother should’ve found out about me and Elden, but it was too late to change that. It was too late for a lot of things.
Everything she said was true. Swiss considered Elden to be his brother. He trusted him. They all trusted each other with their lives. No matter what this was to me and Elden, Swiss would see it as Elden breaking some kind of sacred rule.
I couldn’t stop moving as I entered the closet crammed full of clothes that were nothing like the ones in my mom’s old, color coded, immaculate walk in.
Her and my father’s clothes had always been purposefully separated, a not so subtle symbol for the way they’d lived their lives. But in this closet, Swiss’s things were blended in with my mother’s, motorcycle boots and chunky wedges beside each other. It signified how they lived their lives. It showed me what a fucked-up example I’d had of relationships and marriage my entire life.
She was happy with Swiss.
I wanted that. Wanted my clothes mixed with Elden’s in a closet of our own. Wanted life to be uncomplicated, easy. But that wasn’t going to happen. If I wanted uncomplicated and easy, I would’ve had to sacrifice passion, excitement. If I wanted uncomplicated, I would’ve stayed with Bennett. Would’ve quietly suffocated in a life with him and never known what it was like to be truly loved.
I didn’t believe in the happily ever after that Disney peddled and hadn’t believed in any version until I encountered the Sons of Templar and their women.
Now I did.
I was greedy for one of my own.
My mother entered the room, her mouth tight, eyes narrowed. “You need to explain,” she demanded, closing the door. “Right now.”
I stopped pacing to look at my mother, hating that I felt like a little kid right now. How did I explain everything that had happened with Elden? How did I pour the past two years into some kind of explanation that wasn’t going to give my mother a heart attack?
“I love him, Mom.” It was the most simple, straightforward answer
I wasn’t sure what my mother had expected me to say, maybe that we were just fucking. Maybe that wouldn’t have shocked her quite so much, but all the blood drained from her face.
“And I’m pregnant,” I added, deciding to say it quickly, before she had the chance to recover.
You could’ve knocked her over with a feather. For a moment
“You’re finishing college,” she declared suddenly.
I frowned at the way her mind was moving. “Of course I am.”
“You are not throwing away your degree, your future because of this,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Plenty of women go to college pregnant. In fact, I read a story about a woman who took the bar while she was in labor. And she passed.” She threw up her hands, pacing. “Well, of course, she did. A man would say he couldn’t take the test if he had a fucking cold sore.” She stopped pacing, eyes flickering up and down my body, pausing on my stomach. “How far along are you?”
“Not far. Six weeks at the most.”
She nodded. “Six weeks. And you’ve got … less than six months left of classes, so that means that you’ll be able to attend in person for the majority of that time.” She drummed her fingers on her chin. “Or we could talk to your professors and see if we could do distance. Maybe defer until after you’ve had the baby.” She paused, her lips parted as if she were contemplating her words. “That’s if you want to have it.” Her eyes seemed to suddenly clear, properly focusing on me. “You don’t have to. There is absolutely no shame in making that choice, sweetheart.”