Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“She is, but not as excited as we are. I think Lonnie might burst at the seams.”
I pluck a water bottle from between the couch cushions. Then a quart of blueberries. Really, Kennedy?
“So on that note,” Maggie says hesitantly. “Lonnie and I have decided to head back home early.”
My stomach falls to the floor. What?
“Kate will have to pack because she leaves for Miami on Monday. When she gets home, she will have a lot to do for the move.” She giggles. “I can’t believe I just said that. Kate’s moving home.”
I can’t believe you just said that either, Maggie.
The blueberries fall from my hand and smack the floor. Tiny berries scatter across the hardwood, rolling under the furniture. Shit.
“When will you be back?” I ask, getting on my hands and knees to gather the fruit.
“We’ll hit the road in a little while. If I can keep Lonnie from stopping every mile, we should be home tomorrow afternoon sometime.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I’ll see you soon, sweetie.”
I blink back tears. “Yeah. See you soon.”
“Goodbye.”
“Bye.”
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Breathe, Megan.
What does this mean? Will Maggie come home and I’ll need to go? Why would I stay at Chase’s house with no good reason?
What happens between us now? Will reality settle in, and we’ll acknowledge this was a lustfest? Or will we manage to figure something out?
I put a hand on my chest and practice breathing evenly.
“It’ll be okay. Don’t panic. He’s given you no reason to think things will blow up in your face … like everything always does.”
I groan and roll back over and continue my berry search.
“No. Nope. This will be fine,” I say aloud. “Everything has been going so well. There’s no need to …”
My voice trails off as my phone begins to ring. A number I don’t know flashes across the screen. Huh.
“Hello?” I say, sitting on my knees.
“Yes, is this Megan Kramer?”
“It is.”
“Hi, Ms. Kramer. This is Principal Walding at Peachwood Hills Schools. We have a situation with Kennedy Marshall, and you are listed as the point of contact. Is that correct?”
Oh shit.
I get to my feet, the blueberries forgotten. “Is she all right?”
“I need you to confirm you’re the point of contact, please.”
“Yes. I’m the point of contact. Is she all right?”
He sighs. “She is. But we’ll need you or her father or grandmother—I believe they are the other two on the list—to come to my office. We have a few things we need to discuss.”
My mind spins. What do I do? “Okay. Well, I can be there in twenty minutes. Is that okay?”
“That’ll be fine. Just let the secretary know I’m waiting for you.”
“I’ll see you shortly.”
“Goodbye, Ms. Kramer.”
I end the call. “Fuck.”
Holding my head, I pace back and forth. “What do I do? Do I call Chase? Do I call Maggie back?” I stop moving. “No, Chase asked you to take care of things. You don’t even know what the situation is yet. It could be silly, and there’s no need to worry him.”
I groan, looking at the ceiling. I consider calling Gavin but quickly decide against it. Chase never insinuated that I should do that if something arose.
“Mom swears you’re the right person to help with Ken, and honestly …” A grin twitches against his lips. “I might not disagree.”
“You might not, huh?”
“Well, in your favor, you seem like it’ll be hard for Kennedy to steamroll.”
I laugh. “That, I assure you.”
“So we have a plan then?”
I race upstairs to put on clean clothes.
It looks like I have an appointment with the principal.
“Hi. I’m Megan Kramer here to see … the principal.” I forgot his name. “He called me a little while ago.”
“Yes, Ms. Kramer. Have a seat, and I’ll let him know you’re here.”
She eyes me over the top of black-rimmed glasses like I’m a stranger coming in off the street. Nice.
I sit under an oversized picture of Principal Walding and his big toothy grin.
My nerves have been frayed since I hung up the phone. I’ve gone back and forth over whether to call Chase. If it’s an emergency, I’ll have to let him know. But, in the end, it makes the most sense just to let him get his job finished so he can come home. He’ll be home tonight, anyway.
Besides, he put me on the call list so I could take care of things.
This is things.
A door squeaks to my right, and the same man in the picture above me stands behind me, minus a few strands of hair.
“Come in, Ms. Kramer,” he says, ushering me into his office.
Kennedy sits in a pleather chair with her arms crossed over her chest. Next to her is a woman in her forties with perfect hair and a button-down top tucked into a pleated skirt.
I make a point not to look at my jeans and T-shirt. At least I found a blazer to throw on over my shirt.