Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Kat complies, and for the next several minutes, the group talks about Baby Gracie: the fact that she adamantly refuses to fall asleep unless someone is holding her; the fact that she’s already got her daddy wrapped firmly around her tiny finger; and, of course, the fact that she’s the spitting image of her gorgeous mommy.
After a while, though, Reed says, “Henn and I have to go now. The Cook brothers beat us three straight times in Patron pong, so we need to find them and demand a rematch.”
Kat scoffs. “You should have played with Hannah as your partner. Banana’s an ace at beer pong.”
Reed looks at Hannah, his eyebrows raised. “Is this true?”
Hannah shrugs. “Well, I’m not sure I’m an ace, per se, but, yeah, I’m pretty good.”
“She’s being humble,” Kat calls out. “During my birthday pub crawl, Hannah beat every opponent in every bar we went into. She was a beer pong sniper. A can’t-miss assassin.”
Reed turns from Hannah to me and thwaps me across the head in mock disgust. “You didn’t think to tell me this little factoid about your girlfriend while we were getting our asses kicked three times?”
“I didn’t know! I’ve never seen Hannah play beer pong.”
“Well, watch and be amazed now,” Kat says. “Really, the back of Hannah’s jersey at the wedding should have said ‘Hannah Banana Beer-Pong Milliken.”
After shooting an icy glare at me, Reed gallantly offers his arm to Hannah. “Come on, partner. Let’s go kick some Cook-brother ass together.”
“I’ll do my best,” Hannah says.
“Oh, hang on,” Reed says, stopping on a dime. “Hannah, would you mind going out there and reserving our spot for next game, while I talk to Josh about something, real quick? I’ll be right there.”
“You’ve got it, partner,” Hannah chirps. And off she goes, practically skipping out of the kitchen.
When Hannah’s gone, Reed slides his arm around my shoulders and returns to Josh and Kat on my phone. “Hey, Faradays, let’s set up a time to brainstorm with Henn this week about his proposal in Paris.” Reed rustles my hair. “If we put our heads together, I know we’ll come up with something that’ll be worth Henny’s wait . . . and even more importantly, worthy of our sweet little Hannah Banana Beer-Pong Milliken.”
49
HANNAH
Ooh la la!
I’ve finally fulfilled a lifelong dream and made it to Paris, bitches! And it’s everything I dreamed it’d be and more. Enchanté! Henn brought me here to celebrate my twenty-eighth birthday today, but like I told him last night at our fancy hotel, I feel like we’re celebrating so much more than the day of my birth. We’re also celebrating the joys of being alive, healthy, and madly in love with the most perfectly imperfect person who ever lived.
As promised, Henn and I have made a conscious effort to reveal our imperfections and flaws to each other over the past several months, and as it’s turned out, the exercise has only made our bond that much stronger. Our love and commitment that much more unbreakable. Which, in turn, has made our relationship even more . . . well, perfect.
Speaking of perfect things, Paris is already the best vacation of my life, and we haven’t even been here a full day yet. We landed here yesterday afternoon after flying in on Reed’s luxurious private jet—shout out to Reed for the amazing birthday gift!—and we spent our first evening wandering around the city, hand-in-hand, like wide-eyed, jetlagged, giddy zombies. Henn said we had to stay awake until it was a reasonable hour to crash, local time. And my seasoned traveler of a boyfriend was right. Today, after a long sleep, I feel bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to tourist my ass off.
After enjoying a delicious French pastry and café au lait for breakfast, we headed to The Louvre and spent our day exploring the masterpieces there, followed by enjoying a scrumptious late lunch at some famous restaurant Henn said I had to experience. I’ve already forgotten its name, but I’ll look it up when I write about it in my travel journal tonight. All of that would have been plenty for our first full day. And yet, as dusk descends upon us now, we’re standing in line at the freaking Eiffel Tower—the real one, not the fake one in Vegas—awaiting our turn to ride to the top in one of those big elevators over there.
I can’t wait to check off one of the biggest bucket list items in my life: viewing Paris and the Seine below from the iconic viewing area at the top of the Tower. Thanks to Henn and the nifty VIP passes around our necks—which I’m afraid must have cost sweet Henny a fortune—we’re going to get to take in the views in grand style—from a corner that’s normally roped off to the general public. Which means our once-in-a-lifetime selfie will be extra, extra pretty. Oh, and also thanks to these special VIP passes, we’re even going to get to take in the iconic views while sipping the finest French champagne. Quelle belle vie!