Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Despite the ever-present toxicity that is the Weston clan, the trip has been amazing. Yesterday, West and I attempted to escape the oppressively rich crowd and take a boat to one of the smaller islands, but Reagan and Lincoln spotted us on the dock and asked to join us. I’ve never spent much time with kids before, but it ended up being way more fun than I expected.
West is a great uncle. He’s patient and funny, and Linc looks at him with stars in his eyes. While West and Linc attempted to fish yesterday, Reagan and I talked about school and boys, music and life and friends. She showed me the sketch we’d done together and how she’d added train tracks for Eileen’s braces, and a conversation bubble over her head that said, “I’m a buttface.” I should have done the adult thing and reminded her not to call people names, but that kid pulled Reagan’s pants down in front of a gymnasium full of sixth graders; Reagan deserves to be a little salty.
When my phone pings in my backpack, I dig it out, my pulse taking off when I see a text from Vivi.
Hey favorite.
Hey. Is my dad okay?
He’s perfect.
We just watched the Lakers cream the Suns.
He ate an entire burrito.
Oh, that’s amazing!
I was just checking in to see if you’ve banged the husband yet.
Well, this is a track change. I stare down at the screen, wondering whether Vivi installed a camera in the robot suitcase and watched me sleep-hump the poor man last night.
Absolutely not.
It’s just a matter of time, Anna.
No.
I hit Send, and then send another, just to be clear:
No.
There’s a story behind your need to repeat that.
I don’t need these ideas in my head!
We kissed the other night.
Oh and we went to a party that was very fancy.
You would have loved it.
Are you trying to distract me from asking about the kissing?
Yes.
How was it?
The kissing, not the party.
His mouth is really great.
Like, REALLY great
But that’s not why I’m here!
Isn’t it a little bit why you’re there?
To fake-kiss him?
I’m being paid to be the perfect wife and so far I’d give me a C-
I think a perfect wife bangs.
Which is why banging could and should happen.
It would definitely knock you up to an A
Vivienne Amir. pls.
Also never say “knock you up” in a fake-wife situation
You wouldn’t say that if you weren’t already thinking about sex….
Hush
Your last sex was Micah, right?
Micah. A waiter at her parents’ café. Very hot. Very unskilled.
Yes. Two stars. Would not return.
Which is honestly such a bummer
He looked like he knew how to read a map but i guess not
Narrator: Like most men, Micah didn’t stop to ask for directions
And now every shift we work together I’m like
Sir I know she left your bed as soon as she could
Like the body wasn’t even cold
And he knows I know
And it is all very awkward
Ok but real talk: Dad is ok?
David is great.
He said he might be up to coming to dinner at the cafe this week.
I almost can’t believe the words I’m seeing. Dad eating? Dad getting out of the house for a meal? I’m not always good at managing the white-knuckling fear of losing him, and hearing this makes hope expand inside me until it seems to push every other feeling aside.
But then I look up and see West jogging back down the beach toward me and another feeling shoves its way back in: predatory lady hunger.
West is jogging on the beach near me.
Vivi replies with a gif of Whoopi Goldberg saying You in danger girl, and she could not be more correct.
OK gotta go actively resist this.
Love you.
LYB
Footsteps pad along the bridge, and then West is there, turning the corner onto the balcony. “Hey,” he says, wiping a forearm down his sweaty face, and I have the intrusive thought that I wouldn’t even need to be dared to lick his chest right now. His nipples are… well, I enjoy them. I would like to touch them. Maybe with my boob again.
“Hi.”
He walks over, pulling a towel from where it’s drying on the railing, and uses it to wipe down his torso.
I’m momentarily devastated but soldier on. “How was the run?”
“Pretty good.” He motions to my abandoned paints. “What’s this?”
“I was painting the sunrise but got distracted.”
“Ah.” He rubs the towel over his sweaty hair. “By the way, I wanted to thank you for that.”
“For what?” I ask.
“What you’ve been doing for Regs. I think she often gets lost in the shuffle. I just wanted to tell you, I really appreciate you spending that time with her.”
“Are you kidding? She’s so much fun. I remember how much it sucks being a preteen. How universal is the experience of life sucking when you can feel like you’re missing out even when you’re on a private island.”