Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
When I hit the end of it, Tyler murmured something behind me, something I couldn’t quite make out against the breeze and the soft chirps of insects surrounding us.
Something that sounded a lot like It hurts me, too.
I didn’t get up at five the next morning to go for my run.
Instead, I peeled myself out of my warm sheets somewhere around eight, and did more of a walk slash jog for half the distance I usually ran. Still, I broke a sweat easily enough — even if half of it seemed to be the booze from the night before — and though it was just slightly north of torture, the movement helped me feel better.
I headed straight for the kitchen when I got back to the Wagner’s, chest covered with a sheen of sweat as I grabbed a glass and filled it with water. The few cars that had still been in the front yard when I left were gone now, so I imagined it was just me and the Wagners once again.
I chugged the first glass of water quickly before refilling it, and then I turned, finding Robert and Tyler sitting at the bar.
Both of them were holding a newspaper.
But one of them was staring at me over the top of it.
“Morning, sunshine,” Mr. Wagner said, smiling as he flipped the page. “How ya feeling this morning?”
“Rough,” I said, and as soon as the word left my mouth, my eyes shot open. “Oh, God.”
My hand flew to my throat, heart quickening with panic at the sound of my hoarse voice.
“No,” I said, trying to clear my throat and the hoarseness along with it. “No, no, no.”
“Too much karaoke, huh?” Robert teased, but my eyes met Tyler’s, who was watching me with genuine concern as I freaked out.
It probably was the karaoke, singing at the top of my lungs on stage and screaming along with anyone else singing when I was in the crowd. Plus, I’d drank — a lot — and sat around a smoky fire all night.
I closed my eyes on a sigh, pressing my hand to my forehead. “Shit.”
“Don’t worry, your voice will be back to new in a few days, I’m sure,” Robert promised.
“I don’t have a few days,” I whined, letting my hand fall to my thigh. “I’m supposed to record a podcast tomorrow.”
“Can you postpone it?”
I scoffed. “I was lucky enough to even be invited to guest speak at all.” I shook my head. “They run a tight ship, there’s no way they’d be able to reschedule me. If I don’t make this recording…”
“They’ll fill your spot,” Tyler finished for me.
I grimaced, burying my face in my hands.
“You need to rest it,” Tyler said, laying his newspaper down. “And drink a lot of water.” He was out of his chair in the next second. “I think Mom has a humidifier in the closet upstairs, let me grab it.”
“I can’t rest today,” I pointed out as he made his way out of the kitchen. He didn’t stop to listen though, and I threw a thumb over my shoulder at him, looking to his father, instead. “Does he not realize I’m the maid of honor in a wedding that’s going down in twelve days?”
Robert smirked, licking his thumb before he turned the page again. And before he could answer, his daughter blew into the kitchen, grabbing me in her hands and giving me a once over with concerned eyes.
“I ran into Tyler on the way down. He said you’re sick?”
I frowned. “I’m not sick.” But I winced at how badly it hurt to speak, and Morgan’s eyes widened with worry. “I’m fine,” I tried to promise her, but she shook her head, snatching my half-empty glass of water from my hands and refilling it with water.
“Sick or not, you can’t record a podcast with a voice like that.”
I nodded, taking the freshly filled glass from her. “I know. But, we have so much to do today. I can’t just—”
“You’re going to rest,” Tyler said, cutting me off as he rounded back into the kitchen with a humidifier in tow. “We’ll set you up in the theater room and you can watch movies or TV shows or read or work or whatever you want, but you need water, and moist air, and rest.”
“Tyler, I can’t just—”
“And to stop talking,” he added pointedly.
I glared at him, but before I could argue further, Morgan sighed, grabbing my hand in hers. “He’s right. Look, Oliver and I need to book our honeymoon today, anyway. And we can do the guest housing and ring insurance and meet with the officiant. Boring stuff.”
“But we were supposed to meet the planner on the Cape and go over set up.”
She waved me off. “Oliver and I can handle it. Seriously. You rest, record your podcast tomorrow, and then we can pick up business as usual. You’re not missing anything today.”