Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“I appreciate it all the same,” he says to my back.
I ignore him and lengthen my strides to put distance between us, just so I won’t do something stupid—like shove the golf club he’s still holding up his ass.
When I reach the area where everyone is waiting, Franny’s gaze finds mine, and she closes the distance between us.
“Is everything okay? Is Billy all right?” she asks, meeting me at the edge of the crowd. I hate that she’s worried about him.
“He’s fine,” I mutter, and her eyes roam over my face. I don’t know what she sees, but she nods and doesn’t ask more.
Billy smartly keeps his distance during the final round and takes off right after he finishes making his last shot. I don’t know if he’s going home to his wife to give her a heads-up about the story and explain that it’s all a misunderstanding or if he’s meeting up with Jamie to tell her his grand plan about her and me now dating.
The thought makes me angry all over again.
When we get back to the clubhouse, I start to tell Franny and Barrett that I’m going to take off. With Billy gone, there’s no reason for me to stick around. But my words are thwarted before they can come out of my mouth.
“You’re staying, right?” Franny asks quietly, with an edge of nervousness in her tone, as people brush past us to go into the dining room.
The last thing I want to do is sit through a fancy lunch, especially when I still feel so on edge, but I can’t leave her, not when she’s looking at me like she is.
“Yeah,” I mutter, and her body seems to relax.
Finding a table in the back, I take a seat next to her, with Barrett on her opposite side.
“Is Billy all right?” Barrett asks around his daughter as I lean forward to pick up my water.
“He’s fine. Just some family stuff.”
“Is Shelly okay?” Franny questions softly. “My mom mentioned that she was diagnosed with breast cancer recently.”
What the fuck?
“Shelly has breast cancer?” Barrett asks, and Franny nods, taking off her ball cap and pulling the ponytail elastic out of her hair.
“Shit, I wish he would have told me. Your mom hasn’t even mentioned it.”
“I don’t know if they’re keeping it private right now,” Franny says, rubbing her lips together as she glances over at me.
“He hasn’t mentioned it to me either.” I’m glad I didn’t know. If I had, I wouldn’t have been able to keep myself from putting my hands on him. Cheating on your wife is already low. But doing it while she has cancer? That’s...
I don’t even know what that is.
“Some of the best cancer doctors in the world are in Nashville, so hopefully, she’ll be okay,” Barrett says, then changes the subject when other people approach the table to sit with us. “How’s work been, Dayton?”
“Busy as usual.”
“There’s never a lack of work in your world.”
“You’re right about that.”
“Are you working on a case now?” Franny asks after Barrett excuses himself to use the restroom.
“I just got a new one. It’s a cold case from the ’90s.”
“It must be difficult to take a case that old to court.”
“It can be, but with DNA technology advancing as quickly as it is, it helps.”
“I read an article the other day about DNA and genealogy identifying Jack the Ripper.”
“I think I probably read that same article. But I’m not sure if Aaron Kosminski was the Ripper, even if he does look like a viable suspect, given his history and that he was brought in for questioning during the murders.”
“Why do you think he might not be the guy if they have his DNA?”
“The article of clothing they got the DNA from is over a hundred years old. It was passed around numerous times over the years without anyone knowing what they do today about preserving evidence. And the DNA wasn’t his; it was just linked to him through his family.”
“Is that what you do when you’re working a case? Try to prove that the suspect isn’t guilty of the crimes he’s being charged with?”
“Kind of. Going into a case, I already know there’s going to be someone on the opposite side of the courthouse attempting to get their client off, so I have to figure out all the angles they will use to do that before I bring them to court.” I lean back when a Caesar salad is placed in front of me, with two pieces of the fish they use for the dressing laid across the top. I look over at Franny when she makes a noise and quickly slides her salad bowl away from her.
“Sorry.” She covers her mouth.
“Just breathe through your mouth,” I tell her quietly, trying not to draw attention to ourselves.
It takes a minute, but the color starts to come back to her face, which had gone pale.