Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
“So is mine.” A memory of the last time I’d seen that aunt came to me all of a sudden, and I snorted again. “What did she tell you when we saw her last time? That you needed to start using under-eye cream?”
My freaking sister growled. “No, that was the time before, two Christmases ago. Last time, at Maggie’s wedding, she came up to me, touched my chin and asked if two weren’t enough.”
I had to grip the shit out of my bowl so that I wouldn’t topple it as I started laughing my fucking ass off. Yeah, that was exactly what had happened.
“Shut up.”
I didn’t. “Don’t forget she came up to me and pinched my stomach and tried to hand me some fat-burning pills she’d smuggled,” I tried to tell her… knowing she’d definitely still had it worse. I’d been standing across the room from her when the aunt we both had always dreaded had cornered her, and I’d left her to suffer through it.
Mostly because she would have done the same thing if it had been me she’d gotten.
At least one of us had gotten away unscathed.
Still.
I fucking laughed at the memory of Tía Licha poking at Connie’s chin while she bitchfaced her, trying her hardest to be polite and not whack her hand away like she had really wanted.
“So you want Tía Licha to get all judgy about you getting old and not having a boyfriend?”
I laughed as I chewed my food. “She’s just jelly I’m single and have my whole life ahead of me.”
“She is. I saw Tío Rudy in his underwear that one time, remember? She’s been missing out. Like… big-time.”
We both cracked up.
“Mooooooom! I forgot! I need to take cupcakes to school tomorrow! Can you make some?” my niece yelled from somewhere in the background.
Connie growled into the line. “Holy fuuuuu… Peewee, let me call you back.”
We both knew she wasn’t going to call me back.
But I laughed. “Okay, be nice to my girl. Bye.”
“Bye,” she said. I heard a slice of a “Luisa, what the—” before she hung up.
I was smiling to myself as I hit Play on the remote and settled in to watch another episode of the Turkish drama I still hadn’t gotten through.
As soon as I finished eating though, I grabbed my laptop and went through the list of recipes I had been slowly working on for the book I was hoping to release. Someday.
No, not someday. One day soon. I’d publish it myself since none of the agents I’d sent queries to had responded, I’d decided months ago.
And that one day was what kept me working on my computer, rewriting a couple of summaries at the top of the recipes I was planning on using because I didn’t feel like doing much else.
At least until I passed out on the couch with my laptop. I woke up with a jolt and checked my screen, telling myself that I wasn’t hoping Zac had sent a text with an update—and that was mostly true. I wasn’t hoping. Just wishing that he had good news.
But there wasn’t a message. He hadn’t updated his Picturegram account either, I learned after I’d scrolled through my feed. There was nothing about him or San Diego or anything.
Fingers crossed.
Then I went to bed.
* * *
Three days later though, I found myself pulling my car into an open spot in front of the house Zac was living in. I didn’t want to park in the circular driveway. There were three cars parked in it, including the BMW that he had gone to pick up, and I didn’t want to block anyone in.
Grabbing the big insulated bag I used when I bought cold stuff at the grocery store, I hefted the weight of the four containers inside of it: two were for the frozen yogurt I’d made the day before, and the other two were of cake. Two for Zac and two for CJ. No pressure.
I’d been surprised as shit when the night before, I’d been tweaking the almond cake recipe I’d sort of nailed in a video a couple years ago—the same one Zac had asked about—when my phone had beeped with an incoming message. Like fate.
512-555-0199 had stared back at me on my phone screen. Along with a message of: You free?
And that was how I found myself walking across a front lawn to get to the pavestones that led up to the front door before ringing the doorbell and taking a step back to wait. I wasn’t surprised to see a familiarish figure approaching. I waved.
CJ’s slightly smiling face greeted me right back as he unlocked and then opened it.
“Hi, CJ.”
“How’s it going? Come in.” He tipped his head toward the inside of the house.
“I’m good. How are you?” I asked, stepping in and holding my hand out.