Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out.
“Don’t be.” She ran a hand over her belly. “Remember when we did those exams in ninth grade? My IQ is above average, so I think the baby will be fine.”
“I meant I’m sorry he is out in the ocean, risking his life.”
“Oh. I’m not,” she answered airily. “All he does when he’s around is watch football, drink beer, and complain I don’t fulfill my ‘womanly’ duties. Team Ocean all the way.”
There was a beat of silence as we both stared at each other. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I mouthed, You had sex with Tucker Reid, Dylan. Ohmigod.
That made her snort out a laugh. She slapped a hand over her mouth, frowning sternly. “Shut up. I’m still mad at you. I’m not here to make amends.”
“Not even if I beg really hard?” I wiggled my brows.
“Ask again after I eat. I’m hangry.” She glanced around the room, taking inventory of the people and dishes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make myself a pregnant lady plate and devour it while listening to a complete stranger reciting horror birth stories to me. Last time I socialized, Melissa told me about her two inductions, steroids shots, and emergency C-section. Hard to top that, but I have faith.”
She sauntered away, leaving me with my heart in my throat and a pathetic determination to make things right between us. I had let her down once, but I wasn’t gonna do it again. A Dylan-less life was unthinkable now that I had another taste of her presence in my universe.
“Dot.” A husky voice drifted straight into my bloodstream, and I knew exactly who it belonged to. “My sincere condolences.”
Reluctantly, I sloped my head all the way up, extending my neck to stare Row in the eye. He was nearly a foot taller than me. Nausea twisted my stomach upside down.
He was so gorgeous. I was so screwed.
Row Casablancas had always been a showstopper, but this? This was the face of my feminism leaving my body permanently, buying a one-way ticket to Bora Bora.
The chiseled planes of his jawline, the dent in the center of his lower lip, the crinkles fanning his heavily lashed eyes. What business did he have being so attractive?
His lips moved, and that was when I realized he was talking to me while I was imagining myself riding that mouth like the future of the nation depended on it.
“Can you say that again?” I cleared my throat, thunderstruck by his features.
“Sorry about Artem,” he drawled in a tone normally used to announce first-degree murder verdicts. “My aversion to his daughter aside, he was truly one of a kind.”
We were definitely not on the same page. I wanted to climb this man like a tree. And he wanted me to fall from one and break my spine. It was obvious he wanted to be polite and move on. His body was already half-tilted to give me his back and walk off. My eyes ticked.
“Yeah.” I slipped my hair behind my ear. “I mean…I, uhm, agree.”
That’s not even a sentence, Cal. Just a collection of filler words.
He turned around, about to walk off and leave me there. Something compelled me not to leave it at that. Guilt, maybe?
“Do you remember much about him?” I blurted out.
Everyone who graduated from Staindrop High knew Dad. He was that teacher. With the checked shirts, nine pens in its breast pocket, and a fanny pack he’d gotten for free from his insurance company. But Dad had never discussed his relationships with other students with me. He’d cared about their privacy just as much as he had about his own.
“All the good parts.” His eyes crinkled. “Physics and chemistry were my favorite subjects in high school.”
“I didn’t…know…that.” This was awful. Looking at his face and trying to English properly at the same time. On second thought, it was time to wrap it up. “Well! Thanks for coming, I better—”
“I visited him the day before he passed.”
He had? I hadn’t even known he was in town. How had Mom failed to mention that?
Well, she didn’t know he took your virginity and whatever was left of your soul the night before you moved to NYC.
I stared at him, too shocked to pick up my jaw from the floor. “You did?”
“He asked if I was going to attend his ‘real fun.’” Row quoted with his fingers. That was what Dad had called his impending funeral. Real fun. Because he’d wanted people to be happy that he’d lived, not sad that he’d died. “Said to remind you that he isn’t in pain anymore. That he is probably in heaven right now, playing chess with Leonid Stein and Abe Turner and eating Beluga caviar.”
I blinked at him, registering his words. That was the most Dad thing I’d ever heard. “He didn’t believe in heaven.”