Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Mom: I’m outside.
I smile as I grab my bags and head out of the airport, spotting her at the curb right away.
“Thanks for picking me up, Mom,” I say, hugging her when she walks around the front of the SUV.
“Don’t ‘thanks for picking me up, Mom’ me.” She walks to the back of her SUV and presses the button and it swings up, opening. “Why the fuck would you think I would let you take a fucking cab?”
“Whoa,” I reply, laughing, “two fucks in one sentence.”
“You look different.” She folds her arms over her chest. “Your face looks different.”
“It’s called a glow.” I put both hands under my chin and look to the side. “I walk on the beach every single day at lunch. Vitamin D, who knew?”
“It’s more than that,” she observes, looking behind me. “Where is your luggage?”
“I’m flying back to New York after this, so it’s just this.” I pick up my carry-on bag that has a single change of clothes in it, along with my deodorant and two pairs of panties.
“Get into the car, Ariella,” she hisses, pressing the button again and having the trunk close.
“Wow, I’m getting déjà vu to when, I think, it was twelfth grade when I was sick at school and they called you to pick me up.”
“You weren’t sick,” she yells from her side of the SUV as we get in, “you found out Timmy Morris asked someone else to homecoming.”
I gasp out, grabbing my seat belt. “Mom, it was a mental health day for myself and the safety of Timmy Morris.” I buckle my seat belt. “I had art, do you know how many sharp objects are in art class?” She laughs and shakes her head as I lean over and kiss her cheek. “You’re welcome.”
“So what is this lunch all about?” my mother asks me as soon as we make it out of the airport and she’s on the highway.
“I just want to discuss LA and stuff with you guys.” I avoid looking at her and I can feel her eyes on me, so I take out my phone to stop from looking back at her and caving to tell her the truth. I pull up his secret name and I text him.
Me: I’ve arrived in Dallas.
I press send and then look out the window. My stomach has been topsy-turvy since I woke up this morning at four to fly out. Jaxon had arranged a car service to pick me up and drop me off.
I wait for him to answer me but he doesn’t by the time we pull up to the driveway, and I wonder if he’s still sleeping. He was on the road for the past four days and I would never admit it to him, but I missed him, a lot. Too much. It was something I have never felt. I was in his house and felt like I was lost. I would sleep in his shirt on his side of the bed. The whole time I was telling myself it was because of the baby, and I would deny I was falling in love with him until my last breath.
We pull into the garage, and when she turns off the car, I get out and make my way into the kitchen. The house is the same home I grew up in, and as soon as I step foot into the mudroom that leads to the kitchen, I get this overwhelming sense of tears. “Ralph,” my mother yells from behind me, “I have secured the package!”
I hear him jogging down the steps and then he’s there in the kitchen with a huge smile on his face. “My baby,” he says, coming to me with his arms open and I step into them, wrapping my arms around his waist and closing my eyes. He kisses the top of my head. “How was the flight?”
“Good,” I reply, giving him a squeeze before I step out of his arms, “quick.”
“So tell us,” my mother finally urges, standing at the island, “what is this all about?”
“Well,—” I start trying to think of something to tell them. “I’ve decided to officially move to LA.”
They both share a look like, that wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. “Are you for real?” my mother asks me as I walk over to the stools and sit on the one I’ve always sat on.
“Yeah, I’m going to New York after this and I’m going to pack up my things.”
“I’ll come with you,” my mother offers, “it’ll be fun.”
“Are you sure?” I ask and she rolls her eyes as the doorbell rings.
“That should be Manning,” my father says and I swear I feel a tingle in my scalp. “Called me yesterday to talk, found out you were going to be here and invited himself.”