Page 19 of The Maverick

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Page 19 of The Maverick

“I’ll pick youup in a few days.” He pulled into a parking spot in front of my apartment and glanced around. It was in a quiet neighborhood near downtown Providence. The apartment came with a studio space where I could paint my oversized canvases.

“You still want to go through with this?” I asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Your family seems . . . disturbed by this announcement.”

“They’ve been more disturbed.” He looked me in the eye. “I think you’re more unsettled about this situation than I am.”

“Andthatdisturbs me.”

The corner of his lips tilted. “I’m used to adapting to abrupt changes. You’re an artist. Go with the flow.”

Easier said than done, smart ass.

I grabbed my purse, getting ready to leave.

“Nice addition about Heartstrings. Have you tried the app?”

“No,” I lied and didn’t care if he knew it. “We need to make this relationship believable. Online dating is how people meet these days. Thanks for the ride home.”

When I got into my apartment on the fourth floor, I rushed to the window and glanced down. Attikus was still parked on the street.

“What is he doing?”

After ten minutes, he left. I didn’t even know why I was watching him. Scrubbing a hand down my face, I dropped onto my couch and released a stressful sigh. I wanted to scream, cry, and curl into a ball that would roll me somewhere away from this reality. I wanted time to stop so I could catch up with life.

Needing comfort, I reached for a throw pillow and placed it in front of me. It became a barrier between me and the new life I’d created for myself.

You’re doing the right thing.M?will be out of prison soon.

I desperately needed a hot shower to clear my head so I could research Attikus. I had to know everything I could about my future husband. Then I had to make sure I wrote down all the things I wanted from the marriage. Six months would give me enough time to get rid of Emmanuel.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ATTIKUS

When I got home,several text messages from my mother and sister appeared. I’d expected this.

I stared at my mother’s texts.

Mom:What the hell is going on? When did you meet Nessa?

Mom:What is her background?

Mom:What do you know about her?

Mom:She’s beautiful and courteous, by the way.

Mom:What’s her financial situation?

Mom:I need to have a chat with my son. SOONER RATHER THAN LATER.

Her questions were all valid. No mother wanted her son to be attached to a gold digger. I’d met several of them.

Her anger and disappointment pulsed through the screen. I didn’t want to call her tonight. She needed more time to let this news settle. I needed time as well.

Something still bothered me.


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