Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Chapter 26
Evan
“What’d you do today?” Kat asks as I turn on the stove, listening to the clicks before the gas lights.
“Not much,” I answer her as I look over my shoulder. Just hunting down the identity of a drug dealer.
“What do you think you want to do?” Kat asks me as I pour olive oil into a pan. Chicken marsala for dinner. My throat goes dry as I remember how Pops taught me how to cook it; it was one of his favorites.
“Like do for work?” I ask to clarify and put the chicken in the pan. The sizzle is perfect.
She shrugs and hops up on the counter, setting her ass down and letting her feet dangle. “I know you have some investments.”
“‘Some’ is putting it lightly. If you’re worried about money, don’t be. We’ll be fine.” I haven’t checked in a week or two on some of the stocks, but the savings account is more than enough. We’ve been here so long, both of us working and not doing much of anything else, the money piled up. “I promise we’ll be fine, baby. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“I’m not really worried about money, it’s more about what you’re going to do with yourself.” She’s kept her distance in an odd way I haven’t experienced before. She’s careful with me. Every question seems planned, every touch cautious. It’s obvious that she’s still scared.
I flip the breasts over and pick up the pan, making sure to spread the oil before setting it back down. Just like how Pops used to do.
“We have a baby coming and you want to move,” I answer her and stride over, my bare feet padding on the floor as I go. Standing between her legs with my hands resting lightly on her hips, I tell her, “That’s all I’ve been thinking about for now.”
There’s a small hesitation before she speaks and a tension that flashes between us. That and James. His name is always on the tip of my tongue for any conversation we have. The threat of him lingers, even though we pretend it doesn’t.
“The baby won’t be here for a while,” she finally says and threads her fingers through my hair. I love it when she does this. When she loves on me. I missed this. “I’m worried about you,” she adds and I back away slightly, but she keeps me there, tightening her legs around me.
“Don’t be upset,” she says and her tone begs me to listen.
“I’m fine,” I respond stiffly and even I know it’s a lie.
“You just lost your father, and …”
“Stop worrying about me.”
“You scared me last night with the night terror. And the ones you’ve had before,” she adds.
“It’ll be over soon,” I reassure her and get back to cooking. “I have sleeping pills and that’s going to help. It’s quiet for a moment, but that doesn’t last long. Kat’s not the best at giving up on what she wants.
“What about seeing someone?” she asks.
“What, like a shrink?”
“They aren’t called shrinks,” she says, reprimanding me. Some days I think she thinks it’s all in my head. Like maybe I’m crazy.
“I’ll see one. I promise.” It’s on my to-do list. It’s just at the very bottom of it for now.
The tension clears as I reach for the Italian mix of spices. With just a pinch of cayenne.
“Thank you,” she whispers and before I can respond, she asks again, “So what do you want to do?” At least she moved on from talking about Pops, the nightmares, and seeing a professional about all the shit going on in my head.
Peering back at her and wiping my hands with a kitchen towel, I note the devotion in her gaze. It’d bother me, if I didn’t know how damn much she loves and needs me.
“I’m not worried about keeping myself busy.”
She purses her lips and nods, but she doesn’t seem convinced.
“I’m going to be fine,” I say and stir the sauce before layering it onto the cooked chicken.
She murmurs in that sweet voice of hers, “You better be.”
“You know what I’m going to do?” I ask her as I continue cooking and ignore the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach about everything currently going on. “I’m going to move us out of here and into our forever home. I promise,” I say, and she rolls her eyes.
“For the love of God, hire a moving company this time,” she states with exasperation and I give her the laugh she’s after. The move here was … something for the books.
“I’m going to find a house you love and help you make it ours.” I tap the tongs on the side of the pan as I pull it off the burner and then walk back to her. “I’m going to set up our baby’s room and make it perfect with all the little details.”