Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
My spine tingles with the effort to stand all the way straight under the two of them. I feel like I’m in the window seat of a plane, waiting for my turn to get off, hunched like that guy from Notre Dame.
Before I can respond or do some sort of spin move to shake off my man-cessories, my sister busts through the door like a football team running through their banner.
“Oh my God!” Brooke exclaims as she waddles inside with her service dog Benji following dutifully at her side. “I got here as soon as I could!”
Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her move this fast in my life, and I certainly haven’t since my niece or nephew started baking inside her belly.
Her eyes meet mine and then flash to the two men crowding me, and her movements come to an abrupt halt. Honestly, if the soles of her ballet flats would have been made of tire rubber, I swear they would’ve left track marks across the tile floor.
One pointed eyebrow is raised in my direction as she not-so-discreetly glances between Gavin and Noah. “Grant must be the new American Idol with the size of the crowd he’s acquired tonight,” she says, but thankfully, she switches her focus to the still half-asleep, partially sedated little boy in the room.
I can’t deny my baby looks so tiny in a bed that could fit a grown man. I almost burst into tears when I first stepped into the room at how small and fragile he looked lying there with his little arm fully casted.
“He’s still coming out of anesthesia, but he’s doing well,” Noah comments for my sister’s benefit, finally stepping away from me and moving to a spot at the foot of Grant’s bed.
Brooke nods as she reaches out to tenderly run her fingers through Grant’s hair. “And the surgery? It went okay?”
“His surgeon said he did great,” I update her, purposefully avoiding the giant testosterone-filled elephant in the room that I know she’s internally losing her shit over right now. “He’s confident his arm will heal completely without any complications or infection.”
“Thank goodness,” she comments and looks over at Noah, whose feet are planted wide while his hands grip the thick beige plastic of the bottom bed railing. “You were in the OR with him?”
“I stayed with him the entire time,” he says. “Everything went smoothly.”
A nurse peeks her head in from the hall, swinging all four of our heads in her direction. Her cheeks redden as she focuses on Noah. “Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Philips, but they need your assistance in Recovery Room Five.”
A moment later, and after a small apology to both Brooke and me, Noah steps out of Grant’s recovery room.
Brooke runs one hand through Grant’s ruffled hair again, but after giving him a soft kiss to his forehead, she steps away from his bed and directs all her attention on the other adults in the room—aka me and a man named Gavin whom I haven’t told her anything about. He’s unwrapped his arm from my shoulder now that Noah’s dick isn’t swinging near his anymore, but I’m sure the image is burned in my sister’s memory.
“Hi, I’m Sammy’s sister, Brooke,” she introduces herself. Thankfully, the “and who the hell are you” I know she wants to add is silent.
“I’m Gavin.” He offers a friendly smile. “It’s great to meet you. Though, I wish it were under much different circumstances.”
“Definitely.” Her words sound harmless, but her eyes are narrowed. “So, how do you two know each other?”
Gavin and I look at each other, almost as if we have to confer on the answer, and I laugh nervously when Brooke’s eyes taper even further.
A cell phone starts ringing, and all three of us scramble to double-check if it’s ours as Grant stirs a little.
“I’m so sorry.” Gavin frowns as he pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket and wiggles it slightly to let us know it’s his before checking the screen. “This is work,” he says and meets my eyes. “You mind if I take this into the waiting room, Sammy?”
“Take all the time you need.”
He offers my sister one last smile, even whispering, “It was really nice to meet you, Brooke,” just before he steps out of the room to answer the call.
As soon as the door closes behind him, Brooke doesn’t waste any time. She waddles her pregnant ass over to me and grabs both of my shoulders, shaking. “What the bleeping bleep is going on here?” she whisper-yells. She’s angry, but she’s considerate of Grant.
“What do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” Her voice rises as she repeats my question with enough sarcasm to make a good stand-up comedian proud. “If I recall, you weren’t interested in dating, but tonight, I find you in this hospital room in the middle of a two-man sandwich. From no men to two men? Dang, Sammy. When you make a move, you really make a move.”