Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Thinking about Nico made my stomach hurt, and I was relieved to hear a knock at the door.
“That’ll be your brother,” Dad called from the kitchen. I was on my way to open it myself but the door swung open and Topher walked in, shrugging his sweater off and throwing it on the couch.
“Hey, you,” I said, pulling him into a hug. “This is a surprise.”
Topher grinned. “Yeah, Dad said you and the nibling were up here,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “That word is ridiculous,” I pointed out. “She’s your niece.”
“Yeah, well, it isn’t like I’ve got anyone else to spoil, is it?” Topher said. He raised an eyebrow at me and I flushed.
I may have been on birth control this time around, but sometimes I still couldn’t help but wonder if Nico and I would ... expand our family all the same.
We sat down at the kitchen table with the snacks my dad had made and a round of cocktails. Ada was still tuckered out from the day at the park – I could hear her little snores all the way from the guest room, and Dad and Topher and I tucked into the feast.
“So,” Topher said. “How’s things? Work still grueling?”
I groaned. “Sort of. I was glad to have the day to come up here, though,” I replied.
Topher gave me a look and I knew what he was thinking.
“Yes, I’m still working with him,” I said. “But it should be over soon – I think we have almost all of the material that we need for the issue.”
Topher nodded slowly. “Well, that’s good,” he said, looking at me strangely again.
We’re in front of Dad, idiot, I thought as I locked eyes with my brother. What do you want me to say in front of our father, that Nico’s been fucking my brains out on the regular?
That I’ve done nothing but encourage it to keep happening?
“You should tell him,” Topher said. “What if this is like, the universe’s plan to out you?”
I narrowed my eyes at him and finally tore my gaze away for long enough to stare down into the bottom of my martini glass.
“It’s just work,” I said. “And then what? What if I tell him and he flips out? What if I lose my job over it?”
“How could you get fired for that?” Topher objected. “If anything, this is the perfect time to tell him. You’re not working for him anymore – and if this project is truly almost over, it’ll give him just the right time to think it over.”
I sighed and buried my face in my hands.
“He deserves to know, sis,” Topher said. His voice was gentler this time, but I heard a serious undercurrent in his words.
“Yeah, well, I don’t know,” I said, sighing again. “It’s a lot to think about.”
My father cleared his throat. “What if telling him means that Harper would get dragged into a nasty custody battle? Those family lawyers are expensive,” he said. “I’d help out, of course, but even with that, she might be screwed.”
“She might not be,” Topher said, and I got the strangest feeling that my father and brother were talking about me like I wasn’t even in the room.
“But she might be,” my dad said. “Maybe it’s not worth it – at least not until Ada is older and she can tell the court herself that her mother has done a wonderful job.”
The vodka martini I’d drunk was beginning to slosh around in my stomach and make me feel sick, and I gripped the edge of the table.
“I don’t want to see that happen to Harper,” Dad continued.
Topher pressed his lips together and looked from our father to me. “Look,” he said, giving me a serious look. “If it were me – if some woman out there was walking around with a little Topher – I’d want to know.”
I pressed my lips together.
“Are you seeing him again?” Topher pressed. “Is he open to the idea of a relationship?”
“Why is it all about him?” I asked sharply. “What about me, and what I want?”
“Harp, you had his kid without even telling him,” Topher countered. “I’d say you’ve made more than your share of selfish choices lately.”
“Hey,” Dad snapped. “Enough,” he added, holding up his hands and gesturing for us to make a truce. “I didn’t mean for this to turn into a fight,” he said. “All I wanted was some time with my kids – is that too much to ask?”
Topher and I glanced at each for a moment, then I shook my head.
“Of course not,” I said. “I ... just don’t want this to be such a constant topic. It’s my life. Can we please just table all of this for now?”
Topher took a long time to respond, but he finally gave a jerk of his head. Dad steered the conversation back to neutral topics – the Patriots and how they’d played the night before, how Topher’s new job was going, even the weather – but something in me didn’t feel relaxed and happy anymore. I finished my martini, then washed my glass and went into the guest room where Ada was still snoring on a pile of stuffed animals.