Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“What’s this world coming to?” Irene wants to know.
“It’s coming to awesomeness, that’s what!” Granny informs her. “I say, good for her. The man is fashionable, kind, and has good taste in cars. He’s also got a solid head on his shoulders and a heaping dose of kindness in his heart. You remember how those mafia thugs almost killed us? He was the one who paid them off. Don’t feel bad for his son. He’s a little brat who needs a spanking in the worst way. Refer to my previous statement on mafia thugs.”
“Oh, Mylanta,” Irene breathes again.
“I don’t think they were mafia,” I protest before Granny can go spinning yarns. The situation was bad enough without her going for dramatic effect. “I think they were just thugs.”
“Mafia thugs,” she insists. “And if that’s what you’re choosing to negate in that entire sentence, then I know I’m correct.”
“That’s the thing. You’re right. It’s why I’m calling.”
She lets out a wild banshee squeal that is probably going to have the staff at the retirement home come running. “Because you haven’t banged your boss yet, but you’re going to?”
“Land sakes, he’s also her boss?”
“That’s right. I said it, Irene, but I can see how you’d get information overload. He’s the total package.”
“Lucky girl. You know where to find me if things go wrong. Or at least, he does.”
Granny and Irene’s cackling is so loud and violent that it distorts the screen.
“I don’t want to hurt him,” I whisper when Granny’s calmed down. “You just explained how complicated the situation is. Warrick is a good man, and he’s been through hell in the past. He didn’t have a good childhood, and things just…spiraled from there, I guess.”
“You can’t let what other people have done decide your life. That’s a sad way to live. If you don’t have a choice, that’s one thing, but you do, Malphie.”
“I don’t know if my heart can stand up to another pummeling either, and seeing Warrick in pain would crack it right in half. Ugh, when he was sick, I was so worried about him. I just wanted him to feel better. It’s my brain that’s telling me this is a bad idea because it has already brained up all the options and done all the math, but—”
“Your heart is telling you to s—”
“Granny! Don’t even say it.”
She snorts, rolling her eyes at me. “Well, you know you have my vote. Your parents would also vote yes if he makes you happy and treats you right. None of your exes have done that for you, might I point out.”
“I just don’t know if right now is the right time. I could ruin everything.”
Granny’s not going to let me mope. She’s always so sure about everything. The problem is, it doesn’t matter to her if she’s wrong. She just picks herself up and charges right ahead. Nothing holds her down or back. I suppose that’s also her greatest strength.
“Right now might be the best time, and you’re not going to ruin anything at all.” She wags her finger at the screen. “It’s impossible for you to wound someone. You’re so careful with them, even when they don’t deserve it.”
“I just feel like…like I’m going to go out of my skin if I don’t do something here.”
Going out of my skin is a nice term for the way I’ve been tortured. Or more like consumed by the flames of a needy vagina and piercingly hard nipples. I think even my butt cheeks have been twinging for the love of all things smutty.
“Have you tried moshing out to metal music? That usually tires a body out fast.”
Okay, so Granny may have birthed my whole metal obsession. I have her to blame for most of my good and bad habits. “I listened to it while I was doing housework this morning.”
“That’s your problem then. It just got you good and bothered on top of already being hot and bothered. If you’re not rocking out with your non-existent appendage out, you’re not getting the full advantage.” She ignores my facepalm. Literally, I do it, and she can see it. “You should surprise him. Build him a box fort, make grilled cheese, and eat them in there. Get one of those star projector things and shine it on the roof. You can have a night out under a night sky you can actually see in the city.”
“He’s not five!”
“You said his childhood sucked,” she presses. “I just assumed he wouldn’t have experienced the true joy of fort-making. Well then, in that case, you can tie yourself up in a bunch of fancy knots on top of his bed and wait for him to get home and try and free you. Or leave you tied up. His choice. I’m sure he’ll get the message loud and clear from that.”