Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Not only do we require that people be qualified to come work at Locke Enterprises, but we also don’t hire assholes, so everyone expresses their happiness for Hannah. Even the realtor, Tom. The guy’s made a shitload of money off us, so yeah. He better be excited.
Tess and I went back and forth about having more kids after we got married. She got pregnant once but lost the pregnancy early. A couple of years later, she decided she really wanted more, so we started trying. It never happened, though.
It was just meant to be that way. We love our life. Zee’s twenty-five and he lives in Los Angeles, where he owns a successful mechanic’s shop. His girlfriend Emilia lives there. He fell hard for her when they met while both attending UCLA. They both ended up dropping out, which Tess and I weren’t thrilled about, but they’re happy, which is all we ever really wanted for our kids. Emilia works at a floral shop and has a goal of opening her own someday.
When Tess comes back into the room, her hair is hanging loosely from the clip she had it pulled back with, and her cheeks are flushed. She was definitely jumping up and down to celebrate the good news.
I fucking love that woman’s vibe. She has so much joy and enthusiasm for life. All I could think of when my car got hit by a driver who ran a red light and I was bleeding all over the place waiting for the ambulance to arrive was that I didn’t want to leave Tess.
I’m gray at the temples and I have a bum leg, but there’s still so much I want to do with my family. We’re taking Zee, Emilia and Hannah on a two-week trip to Greece this summer to celebrate Hannah’s graduation. Colby and Mila just had a dream home built in Kauai, and they’re planning to host quarterly getaways there for everyone in our circle.
Tess and I will be able to take our grandchildren there someday. We don’t want to rush Zee or Hannah into having kids, but when they decide to, we’ll be all over that shit.
When our meeting is over, Tess and I go back to our office, where she does a happy dance over Hannah getting into Wharton. She kisses me and then glances at the clock on the wall.
“Shit, I have to get going for my hair appointment. Will you rework the Friday thing in Chicago? And ask Colby what we can bring Friday night?”
“Yep. What’s the plan for dinner? That hot dog I had for lunch was shitty and I’m starving.”
“That’s so surprising.” She furrows her brow. “I mean, when you get a hot dog from a place with plywood over the front window and the menu board above the ordering counter has changes made in marker, you expect it to be top notch.”
“Hey, I heard the place was good. You don’t hear me complaining about the place you picked last week where my chicken sandwich had no chicken on it.”
“Chinese carryout?” She gets her bag and jacket from the coat tree by our office door. “I can pick it up on my way home.”
“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll take beef fried rice and egg rolls.”
“See you at home.”
She blows me a kiss and I pretend to catch it and put it on my dick. It’s our thing.
Then I put on my reading glasses and get to work. I have to get Friday sorted because we’re not missing the celebration for Colby staying cancer-free.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tess
“Hello? Are you about done?”
“Nope,” I yell back at the person knocking on the door of the gas station bathroom I’m in. “It’s wrecked in here, I’d find another bathroom.”
I rip open a second pregnancy test and pull out the stick, tearing the wrapper off. This one will go faster because I already know how to do it after the first one.
That positive result has to be a fluke. There’s no way I went more than five years having lots of sex with my husband and never got pregnant, and now, all of a sudden, at age forty, I am.
It’s not possible. And while I’m waiting for the negative result on the second test, I’m going to compose a letter to the company that made the tests about the absolute bullshit that is false-positive results.
I pee on the stick and carefully set it on top of the box, making sure the test doesn’t touch any surface in this sketchy bathroom.
Someone wrote ‘I love fashism’ on one of the wall tiles in marker, and someone else crossed it out and wrote ‘*Fascism dumb shit.’ Instead of starting my email to the pharmaceutical company, I take a photo of it and text it to my sister.
Tess: Guess where I am?
Cam: A public bathroom where you just got herpes from a toilet seat?