Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“Maybe she can give you some fitness tips,” Mom adds, because no conversation with my mother is complete without her advising me on all the ways I can better myself.
“Yeah, I’ll ask her,” I say obediently.
“Oh, and speaking of Instagram, I was on your page this morning too and saw the picture you posted. The one of you in the pink top and denim shorts? Those shorts were adorable!”
I wait for the next sniper’s bullet.
“But the top … you know I mean well when I say this, but maybe you should consider taking the photo down. That cropped style isn’t the most flattering on you, Cass. With your proportions, you know. Oh! We should also go shopping when I’m here, how does that sound? Maybe drive into Charleston?”
“Sounds great! I’d love that, actually. I always appreciate your opinion.”
There’s a short beat, and I know that in her judgmental, self-absorbed brain, she’s wondering, was that sarcasm?
But that would be too detrimental to her ego, so rather than question me, she does her trademark subject switcheroo. “Have you seen your father yet? And his nurse?”
I hold the phone away from my ear for a second and scream silent obscenities at it, making faces at the screen.
As is my luck, a passing man in work boots and a tool belt enters the lobby at that moment. He looks startled by my antics at first, then barks out a laugh before walking on.
I bring the phone back to my ear. “Not yet. I’m seeing them tomorrow for dinner.”
“He’s waited an entire week to see his child?” she says indignantly. “That’s selfish, even for Clayton.”
You wrote the book on selfish, lady.
Although for once, she’s not entirely wrong. I’ve been thinking the same thing since I arrived in Avalon Bay. So what if the twins go to day camp and Dad and Nia have work? They still eat dinner together every weeknight, do they not? Is it that difficult to invite me to join them?
On the other hand, when her husband’s bitter ex-wife refers to her as his nurse, maybe it’s understandable Nia doesn’t want that bitter woman’s daughter around her house. The nurse comments grate on me too, especially since it’s total nonsense. Nia was never Dad’s nurse. She was his physical therapist after he got in a car accident not long after his and Mom’s divorce. He required surgery for a torn bicep, and Nia was in charge of his rehab. That’s how they met and fell in love.
“Mom, I gotta go,” I say, done with this entire conversation. “Grandma’s waiting for me to drive her home.” In reality, Grandma’s deep in conversation with Mackenzie, the two of them leaning forward, animated about whatever they’re discussing.
“All right, sweetie. I’ll see you next month.”
“Can’t wait.”
I’m exhausted when I return to the table. Talking to Mom really does feel like I’ve just fought a war. Grandma eyes me with a flicker of concern. “Is everything all right?”
“All good,” I lie. Because that’s what I do. I plaster on sunny smiles and pretend the attacks on my appearance, my father, my entire life have zero effect on me.
“I was just telling your grandmother there’s a bonfire tonight at my place,” Mackenzie says, giving me a warm smile. “Having a few friends over. If you’d like to join?”
My first instinct is to beg off and say thank you but I’m busy. I’m so awkward around strangers. But then it occurs to me that Mackenzie’s boyfriend is friends with Tate. Which means Tate might be there. Which means maybe I can work up the nerve to … to what?
Ask him out, I guess.
Proposition him.
Rip my clothes off and order him to rock my world.
Okay, maybe not the last one. But I’ve been back in town for a week now, and Tate is the only guy I’ve met who makes my heart pound. I feel like I’d regret it if I didn’t at least try to stop babbling and ask him to hang out. And I suppose there’s no better time than tonight.
CHAPTER 7
CASSIE
The Hartley twins live in a Low Country–style beach house with a huge front porch and not a neighbor in sight. It isn’t at all like my grandparents’ house, which was built in the last couple decades and has a more modern feel. This is a house that’s been in someone’s family for a hundred years. Old, rambling, and oozing charm, a testament to time and the elements. The roof looks new, however, and the covered porch has clearly been painted recently, hinting that the residents are in the process of upgrading.
The front door creaks loudly when Mackenzie opens it to let me in. “Hey!” She looks delighted to see me. “You made it!”
“Thanks for having me.” I awkwardly fiddle with the belt loops of my denim shorts. Despite my mother’s negging earlier, I’m wearing a cropped T-shirt that shows a sliver of midriff, and black flip-flops that Mackenzie tells me to leave on.