Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” he says, his eyes seeming far away for a moment, and I know he’s checking his mental calendar. “Wish I could go to lunch with you, though.”
“It’s okay. I think Olivia would go nuclear if I showed up with a date too, so it’s probably for the best,” I reply with a shrug.
Today’s lunch is a milestone for Mom and Marvin. They’re introducing the kids to each other, so it’ll be Mom, Marvin, Olivia, me, and Marvin’s son, Noah.
“And I have a couple of counseling sessions this evening, so it’ll be late. Maybe I should . . .” I prompt, not wanting to outright ask if Chance wants to see me tonight but obviously wanting to see him.
“Come to my place for dinner? Yeah, you should,” he answers firmly. “I’ll have something ready around eight?”
I lift up to press a kiss to his lips. “I’m having steak and potatoes for lunch, so if you want to do rabbit food for dinner, I’d be game for that.”
“Uh, be still my heart.” He presses a dramatic hand to his chest and rolls his eyes like he’s fainting. “I am wearing off on you! Maybe I’ll even get a green vegetable in you tonight.”
“I don’t need a cucumber. I’ve got plenty of better options like a nice, big eggplant,” I tease saucily, knowing that’s not at all what he meant. When he mock glares at me with a raised brow, I laugh, “Okay, fine. But not asparagus. Anything but that.”
Chance once made bacon-wrapped asparagus for us, promising I was going to love it. I did not. It was so bitter even the bacon couldn’t save it, so I unwrapped it and only ate the bacon. Meanwhile, he scarfed down his own plus my naked asparagus.
“I’m thinking roasted brussels sprouts,” he says. I fight to keep a straight face, I swear I do, but he shakes his head at me, feigning annoyance. “I’ll sprinkle some parmesan cheese and olive oil on them.”
I nod happily then. “Oh, that sounds good.”
He laughs at me, swats my ass, and says, “Have fun at lunch. Stick to ‘therapist’, not ‘sister’, with Olivia.”
He’s quoting back my own words to me, my plan for today being to treat Olivia with calm, kindness, and patience, not snarky sibling fighting. Because while today is big for Mom and Marvin, it’s a big deal for Olivia too.
“I will,” I vow, mostly to myself.
The young man who opens the door is ridiculously tall, rail thin, and laughing at something someone must’ve said before he turned the knob. “Hey, you must be Samantha. C’mon in,” he says, standing back.
“That must make you Noah?” I answer with a smile.
“All day, every day,” he quips back. Looking over his shoulder, he calls out, “Samantha’s here!”
“Hey! We’re in here,” a male voice says from deeper in the house.
I follow Noah through the living room, which is simple and warm with a deep gray couch, a few red throw pillows, and white curtains, and into the kitchen.
I know instantly that the man at the island is Marvin, not because it’s his house but because of what Mom has said about him. He’s wearing an apron that proclaims Mr. Good Lookin’ Is Cookin’, has warm, dark eyes, and is doing some sort of arm-waving dance move as he sprinkles seasoning on a tray of meat. He’s the epitome of fun, happy, and welcoming, saying, “Hey, Samantha! I’d give you a hello hug, but I’m giving these steaks what-for.” With that, he dramatically smacks one of the steaks, rubbing the spices in. “Ungh, ungh, take that, and that.”
I laugh at his ‘fight’ as Mom leaves her station at the stove to come over and give me a side-hug. “Hey, honey. Glad you could make it. Lunch’ll be ready in about twenty minutes if Marvin’d put those things on the grill.”
“Can’t rush perfection, baby. Takes time to get it just right,” he answers, tossing a wink her way. As Mom goes back to the stove, Marvin holds his cheek out, and she places a quick kiss to it. “Ooh! Yes ma’am, put a little sugar-sweet on it!”
Mom blushes—actually blushes—as she stirs the pot of whatever she’s cooking. She tries to hide it, but I could see her pleased smile from outer space.
Mom is happy. And I couldn’t be happier for her.
“I’ll grab the potatoes from the grill to make room for the steaks, Dad,” Noah says, going out the back door.
“Thanks, Son!”
I see Olivia sitting at the kitchen table, staring at her phone, and wonder if she’s bitching about the annoying old people to her friends. They’re all happy and helping each other. Ugh.
“Hey, whatcha doing?”
She cuts her eyes away from the screen to me, and I can see the flatness there. “Missing a pool party at Axel’s house,” she says forlornly.