Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Although . . . a weird part of her had felt kind of sad as he and Jack drove off. Ian hadn’t even said goodbye.
Don’t be a knob, Maggie. It’s obvious that he doesn’t even like you.
He couldn’t have been more of a jerk to her.
She’d put the diddlebutt out of her mind and gotten herself and Uncle Willy settled in. First order of business had been a cup of tea. And then to get him to spill the tea on what had happened to the soon-to-be princess.
And whoa . . . that had been a shock.
Some asshole called Lord Fothersam had tried to kill her.
No wonder security was intense. Maggie kind of understood why Ian had been as uptight as he had.
Although she still thought the quiz had been overkill.
Really . . . after leaving school, she’d figured she wouldn’t have to do any more tests. Or studying. Or memorizing crap that really didn’t interest her.
That should be illegal. What he’d done to her was definitely a violation of her brain. She might need to mention that to someone who was in charge.
But this morning, after some meditation and a good night’s sleep, she was feeling much more Zen. She’d been up at dawn to get in some yoga.
So yeah . . . today was going to be a good day.
Her phone buzzed and she frowned. Blast it. Picking it up, she groaned as she saw that she’d missed several text messages. She’d put her phone on silent, except for Uncle Willy’s number.
Perfect timing, as always. Just when she was hoping for a good day.
It was her own fault. She’d forgotten to text and check in last night. She could just ignore the messages, but that might force them into calling her.
And that was something she definitely didn’t want.
But first, she texted Indie.
Maggie: Ian is off the baby name list.
After a moment of thinking, she added.
Maggie: So is Jack.
Simply because she couldn’t imagine the baby having the same name as Jack.
Indie: Ian was never on the list. Jack was a possibility, but I’ll take it off if necessary.
Maggie: Yep. It’s a no. I’m here safe and sound. Miss and love you.
Indie: Love you more.
Next, she opened her family’s text messages and braced herself.
Mum: Well? Are you there yet? Did everything go all right?
Mum: Maggie? Text me back.
Mum: Is William all right? I knew this would be too much for him.
Mum: Maggie!
Dad: Answer your mum, she’s worried about you.
Rachelle: Maggie, answer Mum before she has a freaking coronary.
Ronny: Maggie! Stop being a tosser and answer Mum. After all she’s done for you, she doesn’t need this stress. None of us do.
And there it was. The guilt trip. Mum didn’t need to deliver it herself. Although she often did. Nope. Maggie’s two older siblings were more than happy to remind her of everything that her parents had done for her. That the whole family had.
She tugged at several strands of hair, letting the pain help soothe her nerves and anger.
You don’t have a right to the anger.
They sacrificed so much for you and you blew it all up.
You owe them everything.
She sent out a group text.
Maggie: Sorry. We got in late and I crashed. We’re all good. Better go. Got to go to work.
Immediately, her phone buzzed.
Rachelle: I wish I had your ‘job’. Try being chained to a desk nine-to-five with a boss that hates you.
Ronny: Work? Haha, I needed that laugh.
Hurt wormed its way through her and she had to breathe deeply to hold back the tears.
Her family loved her. She knew they did.
It was just that they had yet to forgive her. And the sad thing was . . . she wasn’t sure they ever would.
Her parents didn’t reply. She wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.
Crap. She tugged at her hair again, pulling several strands free.
Stop.
She needed to stop.
Seemed like she needed another meditation session already.
Thirty minutes later, after another meditation session to calm herself, Maggie slathered on some more sunscreen and pulled on her black and red checked short skirt, black oversized T-shirt, and combat boots.
Perfect.
Leaving her bedroom, she headed down the stairs to the kitchen. She wasn’t usually a breakfast eater, but the day couldn’t start without a cup of tea.
Beck sat at the kitchen island, sipping at his coffee.
“Morning!” she said cheerfully. “Sleep okay?”
“Not really.” He gave her a small, polite smile.
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault. I’m just missing my girl. You nearly ready to go? Want some breakfast?”
“I don’t eat breakfast.”
Beck gave her a look of disapproval, which was strange. He had been nothing but polite last night. She shrugged it off.
Her quota for disapproving people in her life was full.
No one else need apply.
“There you are, my dear.” Uncle Willy walked into the room with a big smile.
He seemed so different here. Lighter or something.