Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 178(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 178(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
TWENTY-ONE
Fawn
“This is so stupid. Macho man bull crap. You know perfectly well that Dad isn’t going to hate Sly, because if it came down to it, I’d choose Sylvester every day of the week,” I make the announcement as we step into the kitchen. Mom is pouring an unhealthy amount of vodka into the pitcher, and doesn’t my luck suck even more. The medication I’m on is strictly a don’t drink alcohol, so I’ll be sticking to lemonade sans vodka.
“We know, Fawn, just like I know if your father has something to say about Sable and Blaire being an item, he can sleep on the couch or on the back porch. I won’t have him run off my girls because he still thinks the two of you are teenagers.” Mom finishes her concoction, pours Sable, Blaire, herself a glass while I’m already shaking my head. “Are you pregnant? You never tell me no when it comes to a drink.”
“Ugh, no, Mom, not at all. I am, however, on antibiotics and a pain reliever because of the burns plus another incident by the name of Governor Wescott.” I raise my hand, giving Sable the universal sign of hold on a second. The attorney in her is chomping at the bit to dive headfirst into my problem, and if it were truly my issue, I’d let her have it, but the fact of the matter is it’s not, well, not entirely. “Sylvester is handling it. I’m not allowed to say much else, only that he has a plan. I’ve seen doctors, made statements, and when the time comes, I will tell you everything. Now, can I have a glass of lemonade minus alcohol, or was that all of it?”
“Damn it, Fawn, why didn’t you tell me?” Sable growls, taking a healthy swig.
“As if you’d tell your sister a problem with a name as prominent as that,” Blaire interjects. I’d fist pump her if I weren’t one handed. I’m suddenly parched, and with Mom still standing there with her mouth hanging open, I don’t expect to get much of a response out of her any time soon.
“Touché. Fine, but sit your ass down. I’ll make you a drink.” Sable pulls the big-sister card, knocking me with her hip to get out of the way. I bite my lower lip, worrying about what could possibly be taking Sly and my father so long. It’s eerily quiet, not the best sign when dealing with two brooding men.
“Thanks. Mom, sit down with Blaire and me. It’s not every day Sable wants to serve us,” I tease her like she’s done me most of my life. Mom plops down in her chair in a dramatic moment.
“Sable, grab the spinach dip and bread out of the fridge. Those two men aren’t ruining my dinner plans.” Mom is big on Sunday dinners at least twice a month, and if you miss it, there better be a good reason.
“Blaire, welcome to the family. Good luck with that one.” I nod over my shoulder and watch her eyes go dreamy. Yep, Blaire is totally in love with my sister, and the feeling is mutual. Sable places my drink and the food down on the table, hand going to Blaire’s shoulder and doing the affectionate thing that Sylvester will do to my hip, the squeeze-like hold, telling the other everything will be okay.
“I don’t need luck. I’ve got the stars.” Yep, totally see that, too. My sister has found her match. Thankfully, my relationship is taking the heat, and I know Mom won’t let Dad say anything negative about Sable and Blaire, or he risks a permanent place in the doghouse.
“I’m giving your father five more minutes. If they’re not done, we’ll knock the door down, then I’ll knock some sense into him while you sneak Sylvester out. In the meantime, we’ll eat and drink. No sense in the appetizers going to waste.” Us girls dig in and talk in between bites, my mind unable to shut down, too worried about what the two men in my life are doing to one another and how I’m going to put the fire out between them.
TWENTY-TWO
Sly
“My baby? Really? You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? You had to go after Fawn? A job is one thing, but this, it’s entirely something else,” Jack snaps the moment I step into his home office, which is much like, mine minus the brick work and space.
“It wasn’t planned. I didn’t go out about falling for your daughter. To be honest, it was rather inconvenient, but I wasn’t willing to give her up.” I’m going to have to touch on the Wescott shit, which will no doubt piss him off further, and he’ll blame me all over again. He can get in fucking line. I’m ticked enough with myself to last a damn century.