Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Dad presses his lips together for a moment, apparently considering his next words, before his features soften and his eyes glint. “I’m head over heels in love with her, Marnie Girl,” he confesses. “I told her so during our trip, and she said it back to me.”
Tears prick my eyes. “Aw, Daddy. Congratulations.”
I hug him, and he kisses the side of my head.
“She wants to honor your mother’s memory, always,” he says. “She likes hearing stories about her. She said she already loves her, through me.”
I wipe my eyes. “That’s so sweet. She’s an amazing person.”
Dad lists off a bunch of things he loves about Gigi, including, “I love how much she adores you and Ripley. I love how much she values family.”
“Max says the nicest things about her. He’s said, repeatedly, she’s the world’s best mom.”
Dad raises an eyebrow. “You and Max seem to be getting along, better than ever.”
“Yeah, we’re getting along pretty well,” I say evenly before returning to my work in the sink.
“How well?” Dad asks suggestively.
I blush. “Very well.”
Dad laughs. “Okay, I get it. It’s none of my business.”
I hand Dad a plate for the dishwasher. “We’re at different stages of our lives. We’ve both agreed there’s no future that makes sense for us. But we’re going to enjoy our time together, while it lasts.”
One side of Dad’s mouth quirks up. “How mature of you both.”
“As you know, I’m nothing if not mature.”
Dad laughs heartily.
“It’s not that funny,” I murmur.
Dad sighs and smiles. “Can I give you some unsolicited advice?”
“Something tells me you’re going to, regardless.”
“Give him a chance. Open your heart. The way he looks at you, I think there’s a chance for a whole lot more than—”
“Dad, stop. Please. I’m not the one who needs this little speech.”
“Oh.” Looking disappointed, Dad puts out his palm and I hand him a plate. He asks, “Are you sure? By the way Max interacted with you and Ripley during dinner, I’d bet anything he’s feeling something—”
“I’m sure, Dad. Max isn’t looking for something serious. He’s focused on his career right now, and I’m done wasting my precious time on fun that leads nowhere. When we get back from Wyoming, I’m excited to start looking for my person in earnest. And in the meantime, yes, Max and I are getting along great, precisely because we’ve both been clear and honest about what we want and what we don’t.”
Dad looks apologetic. “I’m sorry. I should have kept my big mouth shut.”
My heart is racing. Dad’s comments have made me realize I’ve been secretly hoping Max’s happy, relaxed demeanor and smiles at dinner were signs his feelings are starting to match mine. But I don’t want to think that way. In fact, that’s precisely the kind of thinking I need to steadfastly avoid.
I force a smile. “It’s okay. But, please, let’s not talk about this again. I just want to live in the moment with him and enjoy myself, and not look for signs that aren’t there. He’s been clear about what he’s willing to offer, and that it’s not what I’m looking for at this stage of my life. The healthiest thing for me is to take him at his word.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I kiss Dad’s cheek. “I’ll go see if Gigi needs help with Ripley.”
24
MARNIE
After kissing Ripley’s sleeping face, I head into the living room, where I find Max sitting on the couch studying his laptop screen. He’s all business. Focused. And sexy as hell.
“Did Dad and Gigi go to bed?” I ask, looking toward the kitchen.
“Yeah, they decided to watch a movie in Henry’s room, so we could talk out here.” He’s entranced by something on his laptop and therefore not at all noticing the sexy vibe I’m trying to lay down.
“Have a seat. I’ve got some ideas I’m excited to tell you about.”
He’s incredibly hot when he’s got his lawyer cap on. What a pity he’s genuinely wanting to talk business. I plop down next to Max on the couch and accept the wine he offers me and then sip and watch and wait while he finishes something on his computer.
“Okay,” Max finally says on an exhale. He tilts his laptop screen toward me, displaying a graphic with “Marnie Long Meals” at the top. “You’ll see here I’ve divided your business into various categories: actual services—which are universally praised as fantastic; marketing efforts—which seem pretty anemic, from what I can tell.”
“Get the crash cart.”
“And, lastly, we’ve got operations, which includes stuff like maximization of time and minimization of costs, as well as a few other things. Let’s jump right into the second two categories, since it’s clear you don’t need to level-up on your services rendered.”
“Thank you.”
Max deftly explains his thoughts and advice. As he does so, he speaks in a way that’s respectful, easily understandable, and non-judgmental. It’s clear he only wants to help me. Also, that he knows his shit.