Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“How are your male friends today?”
“I’m not sure I have many friends.”
She does that pointing, whistling motion again, and I finally get it. She’s pointing at nuts, which she obviously doesn’t have. She means mine.
“Oh! That.” I can’t look at her, but then I do because she probably feels terrible, and I don’t want her to think I’m lying. “Nothing a bag of frozen peas and a cup of mint tea couldn’t fix.”
“Ooh, that’s quite a combination. Tell me your secret.”
“My secret? Oh. The mint tea was just to settle my stomach down. I was pretty nauseated for a while after. But other than that, they’ve quite recovered.”
“I’m so sorry. I was worried I’d done permanent damage.” She pauses, then starts cutting into the pork chop she traded me for. “Let’s change the subject. I was talking with my mom and sister today, and they had the craziest story. Apparently, they had a real-life cat burglar.”
“What?” I nearly drop my fork in shock. “That’s terrible! Did they call the police? I’ll have someone go there right away. I’ll hire someone to watch the house, and if they need anything…”
Everleigh’s face softens, and I can read the emotion there. She’s touched. Maybe a little confused. She doesn’t realize yet that her problems are my problems because I’m a guy who keeps my promises, and we’re legally married right now and will be for the next half a year. “No, sorry, I meant a real cat burglar. Not a person. A cat. This stray apparently got under the skirting of the house and found a way in through the venting under there or a nook or cranny or something. After…well, a long time ago, we sold the house we grew up in, and we bought this place, but it’s not the best. Alright, so it was cheaper than an apartment, and we could build up the value instead of throwing the money away on a rental, which is why we bought it, but it needs some major help. My mom has the water heater closet door taken down right now because it was leaking. She was fiddling around with it, trying to fix it, and he came up through there. Heather and my mom were sitting on the couch watching a movie, and all of a sudden, this stray cat went tearing through the house. He’s wild as hell and totally unkempt, but they’re going to leave food for him and try and calm him down. They’re both full of grand dreams for this cat now that he’s made himself known by breaking in.”
I can’t hide it. I’m bloody well entertained by this story. Bloody well is a phrase that Hans often uses. He likes to take idioms from different parts of the world and blend them into his everyday speech, along with his choice of using different accents. I swear, I could have hired someone boring, but lucky for me, Hans came along instead.
“That’s quite a thing. Hopefully, he doesn’t start bringing gifts. Gifts like dismembered mice, headless mice, and bodiless mice that are just heads and whatnot.”
“I thought about that too. Mom is extra careful about keeping things clean for Heather right now because her treatments will probably do a number on her immune system, so she was mopping the floor and vacuuming right after, but Heather didn’t seem too concerned about it.”
“That’s good to hear, at least.”
“My mom, after I talked to her last night, quit the one job that was killing her. This is the first time she and Heather have spent an afternoon together in I don’t know how long. And…and that’s all you. Thank you for that.”
I don’t get a lot of gratitude aimed my way very often, compliments of being the one who has to make all the hard decisions and also generally being behind the scenes. Most people don’t know that it’s not Bradford pulling the strings. It’s me. I’m the puppet master for real. Everleigh throws her whole self into it, though, and when she beams at me, my heart does another stutter hiccup in my chest.
“You’re not what I expected, you know.” She saves me from having to respond to praise that I’m totally unequipped to deal with.
I tilt my brows at an angle and stop mid-jab in spearing some asparagus. “How so? Should I be dark and broody? Stalk the corridors at night? Stick to the shadows? Howl at the moon a little when it’s full, which I guess was last night? If it’s the black sheep thing, everyone just started calling me that, and it’s mostly because I live in this place alone, and I’m a recluse. People get weird ideas about you when you don’t leave the house that often. If you’ve heard two-headed, hairy-toed monster rumors, then I apologize.”