Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
I cough into my elbow.
Roman holds up his hands. “I’m proud of you, honey. You’re all grown up, you’ve almost finished school, you’re living on your own with a roommate. Big steps. How is Rix? Tristan couldn’t get out of the airport fast enough.”
Rainbow drops off our coffees and tells us our food will be out shortly.
Peggy’s roommate and our teammate, Tristan Stiles, have been dating for several months. He lives in the condo units above the Pancake House. “Uh…she’s good.” She checks her phone again. “And yeah, Tristan has no chill after away games. Hopefully Rix makes it to his place before his patience wears out.” She grimaces. “I just need to…” She fires off a message.
Roman’s expression shifts, eyebrows pulling together. “You haven’t caught them going at it in the kitchen again, have you?” He crosses his arms. “He has his own damn place. It’s not fair to put you in that kind of awkward situation. Is that why you’re so antsy?”
She sets her phone down, eyes darting between us. “Oh, uh…yes. That’s uh… They’re really into each other. Like seriously into each other. He kind of forgets himself when he hasn’t seen her in a while.”
Peggy just threw Tristan under the bus. Ice cold, Princess.
“Well, he needs to learn how to control himself in front of other people.” Roman turns to me. “Why don’t you give Peggy her gift? I’m sure it’ll make her feel better.”
Fuck. I’d hoped he would forget I brought it along.
“Dad, seriously, can you not call me that? I’m not channeling my inner eighty-five-year-old. Call me Hammer or Aurora.”
I’m pretty sure Aurora is her middle name …
“Peggy is a nice name,” Roman protests.
“Not when people expect me to have blue hair or use it to come up with horrible nicknames. Like when I broke my leg in grade seven and they called me Peg Leg Peggy, or when some asshole in grade nine called me Peg-Me Peggy for an entire semester.” She rolls her eyes.
Roman holds up a hand and coughs. “Point made. Give Aurora her gift, Hollis.” He elbows my arm.
It’s my turn to sweat. I set the bag on the table. “You can open it later.”
She stares at it like it’s a bomb, not a glittery blue gift bag stuffed with white tissue paper. “What is this for?”
“It’s a thank you for taking care of my cats. And making sure my towels made it to the dryer,” I say pointedly.
Her gaze lifts, and her cheeks flush a deeper pink.
I attempt to backtrack, but it comes out as a grumble, “It’s not a big deal.”
“Go ahead, Pegs. Open it,” Roman insists.
Peggy bites her lip and doesn’t correct her dad again.
I suddenly feel like I’m going to vomit. There is literally no way to explain the contents of that bag to Roman. No good one, anyway. Which leaves a lot of room for jumping to conclusions. And until twenty minutes ago, I had footage of whatever happened in my bed. Thank fuck it’s been deleted. I mentally prepare for the worst, which would be Roman killing me in a public restaurant for giving his daughter a superhero vibrator.
Peggy sets the bag on the seat beside her. “You didn’t need to get me anything. You already pay me enough, and I love spending time with Postie and Malone.”
A bead of sweat trickles down my spine. My worries about what happens after my contract finishes seem insignificant if my best friend beats me to death with a vibrator. Or his fists.
Peggy pulls the towel free from the bag. It’s navy and gray striped. I hope it makes up for giving her what’s hidden inside in front of Roman.
Her expression is a mixture of relief, surprise, and confusion. “I love it so much.” She hugs it to her chest.
For a second I think I’m in the clear until she holds it up in front of her and it unrolls.
Her eyes drop to her lap and widen. “Thank you so, so much, Hollis,” she chokes out. “Honestly, it’s amazing. Just the best. So thoughtful.”
She’s mentioned in passing how nice the towels are, and how if she doesn’t fold them right away, Postie and Malone will hop into the laundry basket and nap on them.
Roman frowns. “Is that a bath towel?”
“It’s a bath sheet,” Peggy and I say at the same time.
“What’s the difference?” Roman asks. “Why is that one so great?”
“They’re bigger than towels. I use the towels for my hair and the sheets for my body,” Peggy explains. Her voice grows increasingly pitchy, and she hugs the terry to her chest.
I try not to let the image of her wrapped in only that bath sheet form in my head. My self-loathing is at an all-time high when I’m unsuccessful. Until today, I’ve done a decent job of keeping her in the don’t-ever-go-there box. Mostly.