Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
“It’s not your—”
“The whole ignorance-is-bliss doesn’t fly,” she apprised him. “It’s not fair. I don’t get to blame you and take no responsibility.”
He wiped at his cheeks, and she got up, walked over to him, and put her hands gently on his chest.
“Look at me.”
When he did, I noted how red his eyes were.
“We’re going to get through this, and things are going to change when we get home. I don’t know what we’ll have to do, but we’ll be together, and that’s all that matters.”
Brad grabbed his wife and crushed her to him, which she liked if the smiling through the gush of tears was any indication. She really loved him, and he felt the same, and that was nice to see. A weaker couple would not have made it, but I had all the faith in Brad and Thomasin.
“I don’t care if we hafta move,” Toby chimed in, and both his parents turned to look at him. “I liked the old house better anyway.”
“You did?” Thomasin asked him, wiping at her eyes.
“Yeah. It was better.”
“It was way better,” Dennis echoed his brother. “If we get a smaller house, can we get a dog? Gran says our house is too big and that’s why we can’t have any animals because Mom is more interested in keeping up appearances than giving us a normal home.”
“What?” Brad asked him, looking horrified.
“Gran said Mom actually hates Uncle Kurt’s dogs because they might make a mess in her perfect house,” Toby explained.
“Brad!” Thomasin yelled at him.
“I…what?”
“Gran also says that Mom doesn’t really like to cook; she just likes to show off.”
“Putting on hairs,” Dennis apprised us.
“Airs, I think,” Toby corrected his brother. “Though I don’t really get that either.”
“Wow,” I said.
“Brad!” Thomasin yelled again.
Apparently Brad’s mother was stirring the pot. “Sounds like you need to have a word with your mother,” I said, grinning at him.
His groan sounded like he was dying.
“I will murder her,” she promised.
“Mom!” Toby sounded shocked.
I went back to eating, and Dennis was content to sit beside me and tell me all about this new game he was playing on his Switch.
After breakfast, Brad went outside to get the snow off the stairs. I had no idea why that was necessary. Thomasin had tried to help me do the dishes, but I explained that people who cooked did not clean up. She had eventually gone to the gym on the opposite end of the cabin to run off her breakfast. The boys were outside with the dogs in the snow, so when Kurt came down with wet hair sticking up, his glasses on instead of his contacts, looking more than a bit bleary from lack of sleep, I was the only one there to greet him.
“Good morning,” I teased him as I loaded the dishwasher.
“What’s happening?” he grumbled, sounding surly. “Why weren’t you in bed, and where is everyone, and where’s the coffee?”
“That’s a lot of questions.”
“Well, start answering.”
“It’s after eleven,” I said. “And I’ve never slept in that late in my life, not even when I had pneumonia.”
He grunted.
“Your sister is running on the treadmill, the boys have your dogs in the snow, and Brad is shoveling the snow from the stairs for reasons I don’t understand.”
“It’s so when it’s time for us to go, we won’t slip and fall.”
“I never slip and fall,” I reminded him.
“Well, not all of us have your balance,” he said irritably. “And the dogs and the kids will want to go up and down the stairs. There’s snow to run around in.”
“I find your argument valid.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Stop being grouchy. I made you a plate, and the coffee is right there,” I said, tipping my head at the carafe. “It’s Christmas Eve. I expect you to be delightful.”
He made a disgruntled noise and walked over to the machine, where I’d put out for him the biggest mug I could find.
“Your plate is in the oven, so why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get it for you.”
More grunting, but he took a seat at the island. He looked so good all rumpled, I couldn’t resist, and walked over, cupped his chin, tilted his head up, and kissed him.
I meant to just give him a quick peck, but he turned on the stool and leaned into me. Arms wrapped around my neck, he mauled my mouth. It was quite a minty-toothpaste kiss from a man who was normally so contained and controlled.
“I know why you’re a bit testy right now,” I teased him when I broke the kiss so I could breathe. “You expected to roll over and find me in bed this morning.”
The slight whimper sent sparks of electricity straight to my dick. He may have missed me, but it went both ways.
“You were asleep when I got out of the shower last night,” he whispered, kissing the side of my neck. “And you were right there with all your beautiful muscles and your gorgeous ass and quite a few bruises and—speaking of those bruises, you have stitches that—”