Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 52663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
I clench my jaw and step out onto the balcony in search of Emily, but she isn’t there. I call her and it goes straight to voicemail.
Opening my door, I rush downstairs and stop when I see her sitting at the table. My dad, her mom, Taylor, and… my cousin Matt are sharing a charcuterie board.
What the hell is he doing here?
“Look who’s awake!” Matt says, smiling. “I was beginning to think you would miss my first night here.”
“When’s your last night here?”
“Four weeks give or take,” he says. “Just stopping through since I got evicted again. You know how it is.”
I smile and resist the urge to call him on his bluff. My cousin is the ultimate con artist, and he has apartment skipping down to a science.
“Care to join us, Cole?” my father asks. “We saved a seat for you.” He points to the seat next to Taylor, and she’s batting her eyes at me like a Disney princess.
“I’ve got acrylic setting on a canvas upstairs,” I say. “I can’t stay longer than ten minutes.”
“We’ll take it.” My dad stands and gestures for me to come closer.
I make my way toward the table, but my attention is pinned to Emily. She doesn’t look at me once. Doesn’t need to. The way her hand trembles slightly when she cuts into her food says more than any glare ever could.
The conversation is filled with wedding chatter and fake laughter, none of it worth holding onto. I leave as soon as I can.
Back upstairs, I wrap up a painting—brushes cleaned, canvas covered—and I glance in the mirror to find Matt leaning against my doorframe.
“So…” He shuts the door. “Your stepsister is pretty hot.”
“I noticed.”
“Is she dating anyone around here?”
“I would hope not.”
“So, you’re saying—”
“Touch her and die.”
“Okay, then…” He steps back. “I see. Getting all territorial big brother already.”
“Let’s change the subject.”
“Fine.” He rolls his eyes. “Are you still on track with your gallery plans next year?”
“I believe so. Why?”
“Because I made a pact with you years ago.” He smiles. “I’ll help you for free for the first two years.”
“In exchange for a place to stay, correct?”
“Uh, duh.”
“Of course.” I smile. “Glad to see someone in my life knows how to keep their word…”
“And you’re serious about never speaking to your father again once you leave this summer, or are things softening? Feels like there’s been some resolutions since I last saw you two.”
I tap my fingers on the windowsill, the same way I used to as a kid when I’d wait for my dad to show up and he wouldn’t. Some habits never die, even when the hope behind them does.
“Cole?”
“I fucking despise him.” I turn to face him. “I’m just better at hiding it now.”
“Noted.” He nods, knowing the truth all too well.
“Can I say one nice thing about your stepsister for just a moment?”
“No.”
“Please? I really need to get this off my chest.”
“She’s fucking beautiful,” I say. “There. I said it.”
“That wasn’t what I was going to say at all.”
“Oh. What was it?”
“She has some really nice tits…”
20
EMILY
Cole is waiting for me on the balcony that night.
Shirtless and in sweatpants, he glares at me as I approach the railing with my notebook.
“If you want to know something about me, you could just ask, Emily,” he says.
“Hey. Have you committed any crimes before?” I ask. “Surely you’d think that’s a terrible conversation starter.”
“It’s one of your better ones.” He stands and unlocks the gate, motioning for me to join him.
I show up with my notebook like it’s a shield, but we both know I didn’t come here to write.
I left dinner early to see him.
“Why would you ever drink and drive?” I ask. “Doesn’t seem like you.”
“It’s a long story.”
“But you admit that you did it?”
“That’s what I told the judge.”
I sigh. “Have you ever been drinking when you were driving me somewhere?”
“Never.”
“Have you ever—”
“Stop.” He cuts me off, pulling me into his arms. “I’ll explain how the fuck that happened—how it never should’ve happened—but… just not now. I can only take so many surprises in a day.”
“Does that mean you don’t want me to tell you that Taylor got you a gift to prove how much you belong together?”
“Not exactly.” His lips curve into a smirk. “What is it?”
“A custom trunk for all your brushes.”
“That actually sounds nice.”
“She superglued photos of herself all over the top of it.”
“Don’t tell me anything else.”
I laugh, and he lets me go.
“Do you have a lot of orders to handle this week?”
“Not really, just four. Why?”
“I was hoping to cash in on your offer for a painting.”
“Sure,” he says. “What do you want?”
“Myself.”
“Okay.” He looks me up and down. “I can do the base sketch now if you sit on the window chaise.”
I take a few steps back until my knees hit the cushion, watching him pull out an extensive pencil collection.