Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 157672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 788(@200wpm)___ 631(@250wpm)___ 526(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 788(@200wpm)___ 631(@250wpm)___ 526(@300wpm)
Ronnie is sly, but Janice scares me. The woman can pick up on everything.
The last thing I need is to spill my guts to a bunch of Nosey Netties.
I’ll drive around for a bit to loosen up, let the anxiety of the test simmer down.
Or go shopping… except the last time I did that, it cost me over four hundred dollars, an unpleasant encounter with my ex, and ended up with a life-altering discovery.
Maybe see a movie… what is even playing?
I pull out of the parking lot, racking my brain for places to go.
Speaking of Nosey Netties, my phone rings and I inwardly groan.
Time for her daily ‘check in on Willow’ call.
“Hey, Grandma,” I greet her with the most cheery voice possible.
“Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you sound like one of those robotic women on Wisteria Lane. Those women are always hiding secrets.”
God, I almost forgot about her newfound obsession with Desperate Housewives.
“I told Grandpa to cancel your Netflix membership.”
“He’d better not. He’s benefitting. Netflix and Chill is his favorite pastime.”
“Oh my God! Grandma, I do not need to hear this!”
“Willow, we’re old, not dead.”
“Stop, stop, stop, please… It’s not right to brutalize me this way.”
“Suit yourself. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing, today has been productive and thrilling.”
“Sarcasm isn’t cute.”
“I’m really okay. You shouldn’t worry about me every day. I told you things are better.”
“Something doesn’t feel right. I woke up this morning with a tic.”
Shit, her and her damn tics.
“You probably slept wrong.”
“That, or you or Chase are hiding something.”
“It’s Chase, he’s the culprit. He’s got the track record for sneakiness.” I throw my brother right under the bus.
“Nothing sneaky with him. It’s you.”
“Maybe it’s just a tic.”
“Come over for dinner, let me see you. We’ll make barbeque sliders.”
My stomach protests at the thought of barbeque. The pea-sized human in my uterus dictates most of my appetite lately, and apparently, barbeque sliders aren’t appealing.
Think quick, Willow! Stalling gives this woman more ammunition.
“Actually, I’m headed over to Dad’s. He’s been working a lot and I thought I’d make him dinner.”
Good alibi. Going to Dad’s is the perfect escape. He’ll be at work for a few more hours and no chance of running into anyone.
“That’s thoughtful of you, sweet girl. But your dad shops less than you. Likely there are no groceries in the kitchen.”
“Well then, I’ll stock his fridge.”
“You sure you don’t want to re-route and come here?”
“Love you, but stop hovering.”
She sighs and I hold my breath to see what comes next. She’s either gearing up to argue, or she’s giving in.
“Fine, but I expect you to come by soon.”
“Deal.”
“You may want to give Sterling a call.”
“It won’t be a surprise if I call.”
She pauses again. “Okay, Willow. See you soon.”
It’s been a while since Dad and I spent any time alone together. For so long, it was easy to blame the strain on Rylee and Stacy. Then I met Talon, and he consumed most of my time.
My heart pings at the thought of my baby. In twenty-something years, will he or she make time for me? Or will they get so wrapped up in their life, they can’t fit me in.
The thought pains me and I decide, from this day forward, I’ll make more time for my parents.
When I pull into the parking garage, Dad’s truck is in his reserved spot.
Odd, but a pleasant surprise.
Suddenly, I’m starved.
The high-rise development is in the heart of Nashville. Maybe we’ll go out to eat.
I’m mentally going through restaurants in walking distance when I step off the elevator and let myself into his place.
Thoughts of spicy noodles, succulent seared chicken, and vegetables have my stomach growling.
“Dad? I dropped by to surprise you and saw your truck. Let’s walk down to that Thai place for a late lunch. My treat for—” The words die on my lips and a shrill, pitchy, roaring scream reverberates around the room.
I clamp my eyes closed, wincing when I stumble into a wall. My bad ankle twists, but the pain scarcely registers as I try to block out the scene.
Which can’t be unseen.
My dad and mom going at it—on the kitchen counter.
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God… this can’t be happening.
Not again.
“Willow!” Mom cries in a state of horror.
I feel my way out of the kitchen, balancing on the wall until it opens into the living room.
A couple more steps… I shuffle until I can faceplant into the sofa and scrub my eyes.
No, no, no…
My dad shirtless, Mom naked, her legs wrapped around his waist, his hips moving…
“Oh my God!” I shriek into the leather. “Why me?”
Get up and get out of here, my subconscious demands. Pretend this never happened.
Only I can’t move.
A few minutes later, footsteps sound and it’s too late to escape.
“Willow,” Dad’s brusque tone sends a shiver up my back.
What is he ticked about? It wasn’t him that walked in on his middle-aged parents having sex like teenagers.