Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“You’re sure you’re fine?”
“I wear a goddamn vest for a reason,” he snapped at me. “Use your head, Jory.”
Oh.
First, he hardly ever used my name. It was normally J or love or honey or something. Jory was saved for when I pissed him off or, like now, when he was being patronizing.
Second, use my head? Really?
Third, pointing out the obvious that he wore a vest? Was he kidding?
I was momentarily stunned.
“Hello?” he barked.
“You wear a vest. I had no idea. Even though I’ve lived with you all this time I—thanks for pointing that out.”
There was a beat of time, and then he said, “Shit.”
“How silly of us, your family, to have worried even a bit.”
“Wait. I––”
“And clearly your son is an idiot and your daughter should just go and get on with her hosting duties at Aaron’s party tonight instead of waiting here for someone who is perfectly fine. I mean, how stupid are we? We’re clearly fools who are being overly sentimental, because we should never spare you a thought when you’re out in the world since you’re completely protected by your goddamn vest!”
And then I hung up because I’d been scared to death, and apparently Sam’s men cared more about me and the kids than he did.
When he called back, I tossed the phone to Kola.
“Dad,” Kola gasped, and his voice cracked. “You’re okay? We saw it on the news, and then Eli called, and we were all so scared and worried.”
That was how to convey concern right there. And I hoped Sam felt like total crap at the moment for scaring his children, who loved him so very much. I left the room quickly, going upstairs and ducking into my bathroom.
“Pa?” Kola said from the other side of the door minutes later. “Dad wants to talk to you.”
“I’m not feeling well,” I told my son. “And you don’t want to keep him.”
“Okay,” he said and was gone.
Closing the toilet lid, I sat down on it and stared at the walls. On one hand, I felt bad for not talking to him, but on the other, how dare he snap at me even in the heat of whatever was going on around him. And yes, there was a lot going on around him, and he had been shot, and maybe he was mad about that too. Because if he’d died, then he’d miss Christmas, and that had probably gone through his mind as well.
Leaving the bathroom, I walked out and found my cat stretched out on my bed. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth, just lolling there, and my heart stopped. He was dead, and I wasn’t there when he passed.
“Chilly,” I cried out.
Tongue in, he lifted his head, looked at me, meowed in a garbled way like he was not all the way awake, and clearly annoyed, stretched, and rolled over on the other side and went back to sleep.
“You’re an asshole,” I told Chilly, sitting down on the end of the bed because he’d scared the crap out of me. “I was so scared.”
Between him and my stupid husband, it was lucky I was breathing. Plus, I was overly tired, and I’d had that weird day of not knowing up from down that normally only happened between Christmas and New Year’s when time stood still. The tears were not a surprise.
Grabbing a blanket from the wingback chair on my side of the bed, I lay down, curled up in a ball, and closed my eyes. I just needed to take a quick cat nap with Chilly.
“I have an idea for New Year’s,” Hannah said, walking into the room. “I was think—oh, sorry. Are you trying to take a nap?”
“No,” I lied, yawning. “Come over here and tell me.”
Walking around the bed, she got her own blanket and then climbed in around me, moved the pillows so she was sitting up, and started telling me how she was going to have a big-budget Barbie blowout of a party.
“Everything will be pink.”
“Where will this party be held?” I didn’t think we had room in the living room.
“It’s at Uncle Aaron’s this year, remember? Dad said it was his turn next year, last year.”
I didn’t recall. “Did you tell him?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
Of course she had.
“So, do you think with your father all well and good that you should go ahead and go to the party tonight?”
She scoffed. “Funny story. A pipe in the ceiling of the banquet hall burst, so unless it’s going to be a snorkeling party, he’s not having it.”
“Oh no.”
“Yeah, so Uncle Aaron called in a favor over at the Four Seasons, and he’s having it there tomorrow night so I can go too and emcee. Everything worked out.”
“Good.”
“And because Finn has to watch me tomorrow, he had to cancel a date, so that’s even better.”