Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
She frowned at the white powder now on her palm. “Shit!”
“Great. Can someone please bring me a spoon?”
Marta handed me a ladle to scoop out the egg.
“There you are.” Hale appeared in the kitchen then did a double take. “You’re baking?”
“We’re making a pie.”
“Daddy, shit!” Elara held up her hand to her father.
“Whoa!” He stared wide-eyed at his daughter. “Elara, you do not say that word.” He carried her to the sink and rinsed her hand clean.
As soon as he set her down, she said, “Shit!” And ran out of the kitchen yelling profanities.
He looked at me and held out his hands in confusion. “When did that start?”
“Why are you looking at me? You’re the one with the dirty mouth.”
He raised a brow. “Not according to this morning.”
I shot him a look, and he shut up.
Sidestepping Hugo, Marta, and my mother, he rounded the island and stood behind me at the table while I mixed the ingredients. He squeezed my shoulder, massaging gently. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Rayne.”
I rolled my shoulder, shrugging away his touch.
“Hey, look at me.”
I didn’t want to. I was mad at him for ignoring us all day and my eyes were starting to water for no particular reason. “I need to mix these ingredients.” My vision blurred. It sucked having no control over my reflexes.
He dropped into the chair at my left. “Rayne, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’m making a pie and you’re entertaining company in the parlor. Everything’s fine.”
“I’m banning that word.”
“Like you just banned Elara from saying shit? Good luck with that.”
He caught my arm, stilling the whisk. “Penny, Marta, Hugo, can we have a minute?”
The three interlopers quietly left the kitchen and we were alone. I shook my head. “Hale, they’re busy and they have stuff going on.”
He didn’t care. “If you’re upset with me, tell me. I don’t like games.”
I met his stare. “Fine. I’m upset with you. This isn’t how Thanksgiving’s supposed to go, Hale. You’re hanging out with a bunch of strangers and not spending any quality time with us. Holidays are for family. You didn’t even watch the parade with Elara.”
His hand closed around mine. “I’m sorry.”
“Apologizing doesn’t fix it. While you’re having your little flex fest, I’m trying to show Elara what Thanksgiving means. Is this what you want to show her? Thanksgiving means time with Mommy while Daddy’s seducing business deals for the upcoming year?”
He dropped his gaze. “No.”
“Then don’t. Do better.”
“Don’t forget, this is my first time parenting, too, Rayne.”
“Well, it’s Elara’s only time being a kid, Hale. What we show her, matters.” My voice grew tighter the longer I spoke. “I didn’t have a dad present for my holidays, and now they only remind me of my mom and Grandmother. If you want to be a part of her memories, you have to be present.”
“You’re right.”
“I know I’m right. I’m a good mom.” I didn’t mean for my voice to crack but it did.
“Okay, okay. Don’t cry.” He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my head. His hand went to my stomach, cradling my belly. “You’re right. I need to be there for our children and for you.”
I wiped my nose on my shoulder and sniffled. “You can make it up to me tomorrow morning when we hit all the Black Friday sales at six a.m.”
He drew back in horror. “Excuse me?”
“We’re going shopping.” I wiped my eyes, getting flour on my cheek. “Tomorrow. At six a.m. I need maternity clothes.”
“You want to go shopping on Black Friday?”
“Yes. Early.” I kissed his nose, making sure to get a little flour on his cheek as well. “So don’t drink too much at your bro-orgy.”
He groaned and stood. “The things I do for love.” He pulled a floral apron off the peg in the pantry and tied the ruffled bow at his back. “Let’s do this.”
“Wait, what?”
“We’re making a pie.” He peeked into the sauce pans on the stove. “I’m guessing this is us?”
“What about your company?”
“You asked me to be present. I’m present. Let’s bake this pie.” He looked toward the door. “Elara!”
She came running into the kitchen dragging her baby doll by the ankle and whacking its plastic head on the floor. “Daddy!” She laughed at the sight of him in the apron. “That’s Marta’s pray-prin.”
Hale scooped her up and sat her on the island. “It’s mine now.” He handed her a wooden spoon. “Hold this.”
I called the others back into the kitchen and waved Hale out of their way. Only Marta and my mother returned. Once I showed him how to fold the ingredients, he helped Elara work the dough.
Remington appeared. “What the hell’s going on? I have a chef claiming he can’t work in these conditions.” He did a double take at his son in the apron. “What the hell are you wearing, Hale? Or is it Hazel?”