DECEIT (B723) by Hazel Grace (ebook reader for surface pro .TXT) 📕

“Go ahead.”

I glance up at him, finding him unnervingly placid. “Are we still good?”

“Yeah.” He smiles at me, but it's slightly waning. “We’re still good.”

“I’m…not sure how to do this moving forward. Do we break up if...” He shakes his head. “What if he wants to be involved in the baby’s life?”

He cups my elbows in his palms and gently rubs his thumbs along my skin. “I would hope he wouldn’t want to abandon his opportunity.”

“Do you even want kids? We haven’t known each other but three months, I think.”

“I said I was falling in love with you, didn’t I?”

I feel all the color drain from my face. “You were serious?”

“I said I was weird, not a liar.”

“Guys say weird shit when their cock is in a woman’s mouth.”

His smile grows more prominent. “Kids are great. I like kids. I don’t know how great of a dad I’ll be, though. And I do think I’m getting there with you, Emmy. I know it’s fast but I want to be truthful with you about it. So, if that scares you, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’m just surprised is all. I like that you’re honest with me.”

He lifts a brow. “Good surprise?”

“A good surprise is red velvet cake,” I dodge because I’m not entirely sure where I sit feeling-wise with him.

I like him; I just think my brain is too muddled with old flames.

Alexander’s hands go to the knot at his hips, and drops his towel. “How about these kinds of surprises?”

He pivots and walks away, giving me the perfect angle of his firm ass.

“Wow,” I call after him. “That’s what you’re going with, huh?”

He laughs as he exits my room. “I’m gonna go find a red velvet cake and see which one you want to put in your mouth first.”

I smile as he disappears out of my view.

Maybe I will be fine after all—someday.

TWO MONTHS LATER…

I don’t remember much of the last few weeks but the ongoing torment that has settled and rooted itself within me.

I spend my time on three things—Scarlett, Hardy, and Maddy. I volunteer for any job that Ledger needs me to do, but when I’m not filleting into someone and gathering intel, I’m with my family.

Scarlett has had Hardy and I on so many Home Depot errands that the employees know us by name. Madelyn is my little shadow and I accidentally got her to say “shit” last week. Hardy glowered at me for a full two days.

What are uncles for but to teach her the shit she needs to know?

Her father sure as shit won’t show or tell her.

I take my niece on short rides on my motorcycle now that Bubba and all his cronies have been eliminated. She plays with Armageddon and he sleeps with her at night at the bottom of her bed.

Scarlett decided to stay and live with us after not being able to bear leaving us behind. So we went to Chicago to shove all her shit into two U-Haul trucks and drove back home. She works remotely from home with her blogging and Hardy is at a mechanic shop in town.

On the family front, things are good.

On the B723 end, it’s all fucked up.

I haven’t seen or heard from Emmy aside from the divorce papers that she emailed over to me. The boys know that she’s pregnant and they weren’t happy about it even though they’d never say it to her face.

Alexander is an outsider and someone who they’ve barely met. Mills met him on accident while he was hanging out with her. I guess the dude stopped by unannounced.

Marty is having a hell of a time with it. I’m told he’ll change the subject the moment he’s mentioned.

Even Blue won’t acknowledge his ass. Surprising when all she loves to do is provoke Em every chance she gets.

All this coming from Kyson—like I want to know. I could give a shit. Emmy is expecting a child with his alleged ass, it’ll forever be a tie.

I’m hoping—in a completely fucked and shitty way—that he screws up so that Marty will go off and filet him.

It saves me from being bitched at and blamed.

“Sir, the lady on the other side of the bar bought you this.” The young bartender, who has been serving me all night, slides over a shot of gold tequila and doesn’t bother to wait on a response, already on her way to serve another customer.

I’m home for the weekend and wanted to decompress alone. I’ve spilled enough blood to rid my brain of the havoc it’s been going through for at least a day or three, and I’m taking a damn break.

Actually, I take that back.

I broke my so-called time out about an hour or two ago when I checked Emmy’s Instagram page.

Now that I know she has many changes in her life, checking it is a regular occurrence for me. It’s a tortuous addiction that I won’t stop because I have this underlying and exasperating need to make sure she is safe, happy, and taken care of.

Not that it’s my place anymore.

And not that I fucking did a good job with it before anyway.

I’ve learned that she’s still hunting for baby names. That she can’t stand the smell of garlic and craves almond chicken and peanut butter. Also, in her first trimester, all she did was want to take naps and that she had a bag of Blue Ranch Doritos on hand but doesn’t anymore.

I know that her due date for the twins is June 9th and that they are about the size of an ear of corn.

Yeah, twins.

Emmy has more energy now and takes long walks where she snaps pictures of nature and her baby bump. She calls the babies her little squishies, and when she takes a selfie, Emmy always makes sure to include her unborn children in the picture.

“Hi.” Glancing to my right, a pretty blonde with her hair in a messy bun takes it upon herself to take a seat next to me and