Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Yeah, I see what he did there. All of what he did there.
“Since when do you say dude?” Mom scoffs in obvious disgust. “Is that new, young detective with the Mahershala Ali True Detective style rubbing off of on you?”
His eyes hit the ceiling on a slow headshake of astonishment regarding her takeaway from the statement.
He should really know better by now. I mean…he is married to her.
“And now that we’re on the subject of detectives,” Dad sighs, stare falling back to me, “I grabbed you some of the old training manuals for reference purposes like you asked. They’re on my desk in the study.”
Excitement immediately tears through my expression. “Thank you! The kids – both the younger ones and older ones – love real life examples versus just props or toys. It encourages a more realistic connection between what they’re learning and how it relates to the real world.”
Both of my parents smile warmly.
Thankfully, the conversation that proceeds focuses less on my dating life directly – or what my mother believes to be lack thereof – and more on it indirectly. They ask about the progress of my home office – something I evidently should’ve had a long time ago – yet in doing so they seem to have difference stances on the subject with Dad believing I have every right to commandeer a space that once belonged to Chris and Mom appalled, I would be so disrespectful to him like that. As if the discussion isn’t awkward enough, it only grows more so when I let it slip that I’ve been thinking about offering Chris’s parents the model cities he built to have more room for other projects in the garage.
Archer has totally gotten into upcycling and creating recycled art! He’s come up with some really interesting pieces – including the owls that are on display on our bookshelf in the living room – and the therapist believes that the creative outlet will be good for him as well. His sessions right now are twice a week, which is more than he wants – and why I don’t push harder on group therapy – but they’re what he needs. And Presley has been so incredibly understanding about me taking a longer lunch break one day a week to get him to and from his appointment. Part of me wonders if maybe she gets it on a more personal level.
Dinner doesn’t end well, nor do I get enough to eat. Temptation to stop for something fast is strong but getting home to the man I haven’t seen all day due to leaving early for an employee meeting is definitely stronger.
The moment my two feet cross the threshold into our house, Archer warmly shouts from the other room, “Welcome home, sweetheart!”
I silently swoon to myself over the greeting at the same time I drop my workbag on the floor.
Every night. This is how he greets me. Every. Night. Maybe that’s not wild or crazy to you but considering Chris usually just mustered up a smile – especially if he was working on his models – I find this amazing.
“Hey!” I call back on my way to the kitchen. Once I’m there, seeing him look over from where he’s lounging in front of a roaring fire fills me with relief, I’m not sure I could find anywhere else. “Nice fire.”
Warmth floods his green gaze as he rises to his feet to come my direction. “Today’s supposedly the last cold night of spring, so I figured why not try the reassociation assignment, I know Dr. McMahan is gonna ask if I’ve done tomorrow.”
Nodding at his point is followed by me leaning against the edge of the island. “Where’d you get wood?”
“Oh, sweetheart, thanks to you, I’ve always got wood.”
His eyebrow waggle successfully sparks a toothy smile.
“Did you mean for the fireplace?”
He arrives directly in front of me at the same time I reply, “I did.”
“It’s one of those magic log things.” Archer delivers a sweet, chaste kiss to my lips. “Ran into Dane on my way back from getting the mail. Got to talking. Told me he was gonna light a fire and roast marshmallows with his kids since it’s his weekend. I asked if he had an extra one that I could have, and he did.”
“Dane?”
“The recently divorced guy that lives next door to Ada. You know the one Mrs. Prescott swears watches her out his window during her morning jogs.”
“The Marine.”
“Yeah, the jarhead.”
“Why’d he put his head in a jar?!”
“You just don’t know any military nicknames?” Archer can’t stop himself from chuckling. “You’re honestly telling me they don’t use any in the romance books you read?”
“They probably do, and I just don’t remember.” Knowing better than to linger on the subject for too long, I make my way over to where we keep the bread. “And since we’re on the subject of reading-”