Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Whitley was saying something to me, but I headed over to the mantel and found Whitley and what must have been her brother, Wyatt, looking back at me over and over again. No matter how difficult her upbringing had been, her parents loved her. Even if that love seemed to be conditional.
“Oh god,” she groaned, trying to yank me backward. “Don’t look at those. It’s so embarrassing.”
“Is this you?” I picked up a frame from the mantel with a picture of a young curly-haired brunette, smiling with braces and glasses as she held a baseball bat. “You played baseball?”
Whitley snatched it out of my hand. “Softball.”
“She was so good too,” Cynthia said. “Wyatt played baseball, and she wanted to be just like him at that age.”
“Ugh,” Whitley said, replacing the picture. “We don’t talk about those years.”
“How long did you play?”
She groaned. “Three years. They wanted me to play on the high school team, but I was over it by then.” She shrugged and met my eyes. “I wanted to sing.”
Her mother sighed behind her. “She might have gone to college on a full scholarship for softball if she’d stayed with it.”
“Instead, I had academic scholarships,” Whitley muttered under her breath.
“Which we were proud of,” her mother said quickly.
I picked up another picture. A young Whitley, maybe four or five, standing in a tutu and holding a bouquet of roses.
“You were adorable.”
Whitley shook her head. “Is Dad almost ready? We should go.”
“Let me check on him.”
Cynthia disappeared to check on her husband, leaving us alone in the living room.
“So, you were a natural brunette.”
“Don’t remind me.”
I fingered the rainbow ends. “I like it however you wear it.”
“I haven’t had my natural brown hair in ages. I don’t even know what I’d look like with it.”
“You’d be as beautiful as ever,” I assured her, planting a kiss on her lips.
A moment later, her father appeared in the doorway. He looked frailer than the last time we’d seen him. Just over a month had passed, and the difference was striking. Whitley’s face crumpled at the sight of him. She’d been trying not to think about her family and the tumultuous relationship she had with them, but seeing him like this only a month later had to be discomfiting.
“Ready to go, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling Whitley into a hug.
“Are you sure you want to go?”
“It’s the annual Fourth of July festival. Of course we’re going to go.”
Whitley didn’t argue with him, just followed her parents out to the car. We piled into the backseat, and a few minutes later, we were parked in front of a colossal white structure that was the local country club.
Whit had warned me what we were going to do here, but I hadn’t known what to expect. The building was enormous, and the small festival I had anticipated was a huge carnival—complete with rides, food, and games—with people already camping out on the golf course to watch the fireworks.
Before we took two steps toward the festival, two young ginger children barreled away from their parents and collided with Whitley. She laughed and sank down to their level.
“Aunt Whit!” they both cheered.
She hugged each of them tight. “It’s so good to see you.” Her smile was infectious as she looked up at me. “This is Wesley and Wynona.” Then she gestured to me. “And this is Gavin.”
Wynona eyed me warily, but Wesley stuck his hand out like he was a proper gentleman. I shook it just as dramatically.
“Hi. I’m going into the second grade.”
“Pleasure to meet you.”
“Are you going to bring Aunt Whit here more often?”
Wynona perked up at this, slinking out from behind her brother in anticipation of my answer.
“I would be delighted,” I assured him.
Whitley laughed, ruffling Wesley’s impeccable hair. He ducked, as if offended by the gesture.
“You two are going to be coming to New York soon for our wedding.”
“Is that like California?” Wynona asked softly. “We saw you in California.”
“It is nothing like California,” Whitley said with a laugh. “But you’ll like it all the same. There’s so much to do. Plus, you’ll be our flower girl.”
Wynona’s eyes lit up at that. “I can do that!”
“And I will be the ring bearer,” Wesley said proudly.
“That you will,” a voice said, now that their parents had finally caught up with them. The voice belonged to a woman nearly as short as Whitley, which was a feat. She had long ginger hair and a kind smile. “Hi, I’m Carrie.”
I shook Carrie’s hand, and then Wyatt appeared at his wife’s side. I could see the immediate resemblance to my Whitley in his features. Except that he’d apparently gotten all the height in the family. He was only a few inches shorter than me as he extended his hand.
“You must be Gavin,” Wyatt said.
“That I am.” We shook once, firm. “It’s good to finally meet you.”