Page 94 of Playboy’s Purgatory

His head snaps up and he looks over at me. “How did you know that?”

“I’m going to ignore the suspicion in your voice because we were both woken up in the middle of the night after expending a lot of energy.” I pause and look over at him, the scowl on my face very fucking clear to see. “I know because I’ve been waiting for the Lola shaped shoe to drop ever since the truth came to light. She’s stuck around when she would have run in the past. That means she’s either been plotting, scheming, or consolidating her resources. Maybe all three and maybe even more nefarious words thrown into the big kettle of drama she loves to just keep stirring, you know?”

I huff out a breath and glance up to find Jettson looking at me with wide, slightly fearful, eyes. This is why I’m willing to let it go. Poor guy, he was awoken too early and with a semi.

“I spent years enduring my sister’s recklessness and planning. I gave up on thinking she would change when she walked away from Vanessa. The only reason I held onto even a thread of the possibility, not even a real hope, of her getting her shit together was for my daughter.”

My eyes slide closed and I take a deep breath.

“I’m not even able to muster that much up anymore,” I mutter, more to myself than him.

His lips press against my forehead, and he whispers against my skin, “I’m sorry.”

I look at him and decide to stay true to my word. “I know. You get a pass. This time,” there’s a real warning in my voice. Hopefully, he heeds it.

With a low chuckle, he gets dressed before walking out the door. I listen to his footsteps and look up at the ceiling.

Damn it.

There are far too many possibilities when it comes to what Lola could have done. If I lay in bed, I’ll just start creating more and more lavish scenarios. That is not going to help anyone.

I rip the covers off and get out of bed with a soft growl. It’s almost impossible to stop myself from stomping into the kitchen. The need to do something with my hands is riding me hard.

My go-to recipe is chocolate chip cookies. I can do it in my sleep. I get what I need out for one batch, which is almost more difficult to make now for me, and start the dough.

Thankfully, my mind goes blank as I work.

Whatever happens, happens. I’m not going to be able to do a damn thing to stop it.

I know who Lola is. She’s going to go for maximum impact with her exit. The impact radius is going to be quite the sight. While I hope I’m not at the center of it, I’m not holding my breath.

For some reason, I think back to her worst exit. Well, the one with the biggest ripple effect. I’m raising one of those ripples.

The feeling of walking into the empty hospital room was like nothing I ever experienced before. Even with all the other stunts she pulled, that room, in that moment, it was new. It was bigger and it was a hell of a lot scarier.

A nurse let us know Lola walked out and our next stop was the nursery. The number of conversations involving words like custodial, filing, and legal still make my head spin if I think about it for too long.

I understood why everything needed to be done right, but until it was, I wasn’t allowed to hold Vanessa. My heart yearned to hold her.

She looked so small in the nursery bassinet. So alone.

But Lola was the one wearing the mother’s bracelet matching her daughter’s. None of us were wearing it.

Now, I’m grateful they made sure everything was done properly. It protected us and Vanessa.

While things were moving, there was a moment when my mom and I were standing around Vanessa’s little basinet. I couldn’t look away from her, and I was fighting against the tears wanting to stream down my cheeks. Tears weren’t going to do a damn bit of good.

I looked up at Mom, and she wasn’t trying to stop her tears. “I don’t know where we went wrong,” her voice was solemn and far away, like she was sifting through all of her memories and all the little moments when a different decision might not have found us standing where we were.

Her eyes came up and met mine, same eyes shared across generations. There was sadness there and a lot of fear. I had no idea what to say to her.

“You’ve always been different. Easier,” she sighed.

My heart clenched because I don’t know that I was easier. Maybe, if you want to look at it that way. To me, it felt like I didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t going to get the same attention, care, or investment because Lola was taking all of it up and no boundaries were ever set.

“I don’t know,” her voice cracked, “if I have it in me to raise another little girl.”

But I could hear what she wasn’t saying. She didn’t want to mess up again. What if Vanessa was just like her mother?