Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
“The girls are passed out,” my mom says as she comes to stand beside me.
“Really?” It’s late but not that late. “They both had two slices of cake.” Marley and Whitney aren’t twins, but only eleven months separate the two of them. We’d waited a few years after we had our son to start trying again. When Julieta gave me the green light and it never flicked over to red, I kept going. After our second daughter was born, she made sure to make it clear that time that she was finished.
“Sugar crash.” Mom laughs.
“Are you going to be able to handle the three of them for two weeks?” She rolls her eyes at my stupid question. I’m sure she and Dad have a whole itinerary already set up for the next two weeks.
“You’re holding out longer than I thought you would.” She nudges my side, pulling my attention away from the dance floor filled with people. Though my eyes have only been on my wife. In all my life, nothing could ever hold my attention the way she can.
I even thought that over time, maybe some of that crazy possessiveness inside of me would temper down, but it hasn’t. If anything, it grew worse when she’d gotten pregnant that first time. Probably why she made us wait years before we could have another.
“Maybe if you went and got your husband, I could steal my wife back.”
Mom smirks. It matches my son’s. “My husband is getting me a drink.”
At her words, my head snaps back to the dance floor where I see my wife dancing with someone I don’t recognize.
“He’s a cousin on my side.” Mom grabs my arm before I can bolt onto the dance floor like a raging bull. It’s how I feel not only because some random man is dancing with my wife, but I’m dying to get the fuck out of here.
“Did you invite everyone?”
“Go get your wife. I’ll hold things down here. I always do.”
That she does. I don’t know why I ever underestimate my mother. She knew from the start the whole marriage bullshit game I’d been playing. She jumped in and played her own hand in it. One that pushed Julieta and me together faster.
“Love you,” I say, leaning down and kissing her cheek.
“Love you, too, son.” She lets my arm go.
I make a straight shot for my wife. As if she senses me, her head turns, and her eyes meet mine. The second they do, I get that look. The one that tells me to be calm. Fuck that.
“I’ll be taking this,” I say as I pluck my wife right off the dance floor. Okay, I might not have said it so calmly. It may have been more a growl, as my Julieta calls them, but what the fuck ever.
“You did not just call me ‘this’!” I cradle her in my arms. She’s fighting a smile as I carry her out of the tented area that was constructed just for the wedding. It’s massive, but still somehow my mom kept calling it a backyard wedding. It might be in her backyard, but she had a whole damn building built out there to house all the guests.
People cheer and jump out of the way. I make my way through the back doors and into the house. Merely a shortcut. It would be faster than going around the massive estate my parents call home. When I exit out the front, Justin is waiting with the door to the back of the limo open.
“We didn’t even say bye to anyone.” Now Julieta’s smiling. We told our children bye earlier, that at some point we’d be slipping out. There was no need to drag it out. I’ve had enough of sharing my wife with anyone.
“You’re lucky we went to the reception,” I counter. My eyes rake over her dress. Finally, I have her alone. The first time all damn day, and that dress has been driving me insane.
“I was wondering when you were going to come get me. I finally had to ask some random man to dance with me.”
“Julieta,” I growl.
“You can push this dress up. No need to be nice this time.” She licks her lips.
I’m done for. I pounce on her. It’s a habit of mine when it comes to her.
Some things never change. With her, they never will.
* * *