Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 36428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
He lightly laughs, shakes his head, and rises to his feet. “Why don’t I go get those for all the kids? I know how to at least do that shit.”
Wendell wanders off towards the nearby kitchen just as his daughter crawls over to join the others in their smashing objects pursuits. Cleaning up the hair mess while keeping an eye on the children isn’t difficult.
In a weird way, it’s actually relaxing.
I very much prefer the pressures and responsibilities of parenthood to that of my “professional” life.
“You were right,” he states loudly at the same time he hands the first squeeze pouch to his daughter, “you’re pretty fucking good with a hairbrush.”
Airy laughs are presented in between organizing movements.
“And you’re a pretty fucking good uncle.” He extends the next fruit treat to his son. “And a pretty fucking good dad.” My son takes the healthy snack the instant it’s offered. “And a pretty fucking good husband despite how you pissed off your wife.”
Pissed off feels like a monumental understatement.
She was pissed off when I bought us all tickets to Disney World for an unapproved extended family vacation.
Though not because of the cost but because of the timing.
Too close to a Syn gathering.
It forced her to choose them over us and while I didn’t fault her for it, she didn’t enjoy not having a real choice in the matter or having to choose work over family. She understands it’s going to happen.
That it has to happen.
She just didn’t appreciate me creating an unnecessary opportunity in which it had to happen.
I understood that mistake.
And I understand this one.
Her level of outrage has me convinced that I’ll be lucky to sleep in bed next to her before Christmas.
“We all piss off our wives,” Wendell warmly reminds at the same time he grabs the rearranged hair bin from my possession. “It’s called marriage.”
The faintest tick occurs in the corner of my lips.
“Your wife just…happens to hold a grudge better than most.”
Our stares finally lock again. “Put…mildly.”
“She got that shit from Atticus.” His large shoulders release a small bounce. “Not one of his better traits outside of business.”
Another attempt to smile stirs.
“But you know Remy’s come a long way in that department.”
A single eyebrow lift is the most I can manage to muster up.
“Once upon a time, she would’ve just murked Rowan between a cup of coffee and a manicure.” He cuts a small glance at the children who are happily sucking down their afternoon snacks. “The fact she just made the kid a gimp for a couple months is proof of how far she’s really come. How far you’ve helped her come.”
“Net.” I quickly shake my head. “She just worried Rowan leak secrets.”
An amused grunt is followed by his own sarcastic head tilt. “You really think the woman who blackmailed a senator six weeks ago for spilling whiskey on her pumps doesn’t have some sort of contingency plan to stop someone from being able to blackmail her?”
Alright.
He has a good point.
The instant Wendell knows he’s won the round he grins wide again. “Remy’s not the same heartless machine she used to be and deep down, past the having your coffee served in a doggy dish this morning, you know that’s because of you.”
It was just us for breakfast.
Arlene had to take Kat to an early rehearsal this morning – stopping for donuts on the way in – and Vlad decided to sleep until almost nine – after chomping on cold teething rings for an hour in the middle of the night – which meant we had a meal all to ourselves.
The perfect opportunity for her to yell.
Scream.
Reprimand.
Anything other than talk to me without talking to me, yet the minute Cora placed the silver bowl down rather than a cup, I knew it wasn’t going to happen.
That my punishment was far from over.
She dismissed herself for her home office shortly after that leaving me to wallow in sorrow as much as the lingering animosity. And what hurt the most wasn’t the pet jab or being deserted before breakfast could even be served. It was remembering when she treated Puppet a similar fashion right in front of me.
How she forced him to acknowledge how disposable he was.
Expendable.
It had my thoughts instantly running rapid in fear, wondering if that’s what’s next for me.
Panicking over the idea that this incident has taken me from the man she loves to just another she has to use to keep up appearances.
I can’t help but feel like…I am the new puppet.
And that is a feeling that makes my stomach churn.
Like taking a poison with no antidote.
Rosa’s return with Rome from their Sunday shopping spree abruptly ends our conversation and ramps up all efforts to get her brood out of the house on time for Kat’s recital. Transitioning from the land of trucks and sticky snacks to the somewhat crowded auditorium alone would be rather easy – because I only have Vlad – but since they have three littles with another one on the way, the process is a bit more strenuous.