My Cruel Lover (Wicked Poison #3) - T.L. Smith Page 0,55
time. “You blow it already with the girl?” He chuckles, wiping his hands on his dirty jeans.
I take a seat in the chair near him and open his fridge, which is always fully stocked, and pull out a beer for myself and throw him another.
“Mother. I took Jacinta to see her.”
Archie laughs and shakes his head. “Why on earth would you think it would be a good idea to take Jacinta around your mother? You know who she is. What she is. Shit! It’s been what for Rylee? She had August’s baby, and your mom still didn’t want August or the baby.”
He has a point. There’s no doubt about that.
He rubs his jaw. “Unless you went in knowing she’d be like that and did it on purpose. Could you be sabotaging on purpose?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“The pain … that I put there.” I shake my head. “Time. I have to give her time,” I say.
“No woman wants time. If you really want her, you would already be there, not here.” He rolls back under the car and I leave.
Chapter 27
Jacinta
Beckham’s cleaner was here when I arrived home. I attempted to ask her nicely to leave, but she nodded her head as if she didn’t understand me.
Once she finishes though, she speaks perfect English and tells me she’ll see me next week. All I can do is nod from where I lie curled in a ball on my bed as I listen to her pack up and leave.
How could he stand there and let his mother trash-talk about me like that?
Just after he told me he loves me.
This relationship is not healthy.
Not good.
I’d call it fragile.
I had an example of a great relationship growing up. So, how I have managed to pick these bad eggs, I will never know.
Anderson being the worst one of them all.
But I never felt this pain in my chest the same as I do with Beckham.
This longing, this kind of heartache. The emotional tightness, the shortness of breath, and the anxiety when I think about him have me feeling almost lightheaded.
My phone pings and I want to ignore it. But Oliver isn’t with me, so when I check it and see that it’s not Beckham, I’m hit with relief but then overwhelming sadness.
It’s Leo letting me know he won’t be back for a while, but he sends a picture of Oliver through. I thank him and rise from the bed. I need to do at least one thing on my list before my already ruined day becomes any worse.
As I arrive at the shops, my phone starts ringing. I see Beckham’s name flicker on the screen when I look down.
Nope.
Not answering.
Not a chance in hell.
Going in, I reach the chocolate aisle and grab more than I usually would.
Budget, I think.
Fuck my budget.
Chocolate is going to be the answer, along with sad movies tonight.
My phone rings again, so I silence it and move on.
“Do you plan to ignore me for the rest of the day?” I jump, my hand falling to my heart and the milk splattering all over my feet when it somehow slips through my fingers.
Shit.
Damn it all to hell!
I look up into his dark eyes, and his hand grabs my cart as it almost runs away.
“I asked for space,” I tell Beckham as someone comes over with a mop.
I apologize. Beckham does not.
“And I gave it to you.” He looks down at his watch. “Four long hours.”
“You should leave.” I pull away and try to maneuver around him, but he blocks my path.
“Okay, we need to talk,” he says.
I place my hands on my hips. “Talk, then move it. I have things to do.”
His hand reaches up and scratches at his brow as his full attention focuses on me.
I used to feel scrutinized under someone’s gaze but now, not so much.
“I shouldn’t have let my mother speak about you in that way.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. Why would you even bring me to that place if all you wanted to do was hear the bad words your mother has to say about me?” I half yell. People walk by and stare, neither of us caring. All that exists is us in our own small bubble right now.
I used to like that bubble when his hands would roam my body, and his dark stare would penetrate me.
“And for the record, Leo sends me checks. Big ones to help support Oliver. Basically, what he would have given his son. But I don’t cash them. Hell, I don’t even