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)
Except, this movie feels a lot like my life right now.
Because I did catch one of those breaks.
And it’s not just a break. I got so, so, SO lucky that I married Bradford’s brother instead of Bradford himself. Actually, okay, I guess I technically did marry Bradford. Note to self: Don’t give your future children the same name. It’s pretty confusing and can lead to things like swapping out brides later in life. Anyway, I caught the best break, and I married the best Bradford.
I sneak glances at Darius over my bowl of popcorn for the first half of the movie. He’s so not into this, but he’s watching it for us anyway. He let us pick the movie, even though I’m sure he knew what was coming. He might not have a home theatre, but a seventy-two-inch TV and surround sound bring this early two thousand’s rom-com to life. Unlike Darius, Hans is totally into this.
He’s chowing down on popcorn and is dialed right into the screen. My mom and Heather are also engrossed.
I’m at the end of the couch, and Darius is at the end of the sofa, which means we’re not that far apart because the furniture is at ninety-degree angles to each other. In fact, I could reach out and touch him.
Why the hell did I shove him into the friend zone? Right. Because I’m scared. I’m scared because this wasn’t supposed to get real. It was supposed to be both of us getting something we needed, me catching one hell of a break, and then, that’s it. The movie is over after that. I was going to do something here, get a job or volunteer in something to take up my time, and in six months, I’d be kissing Chicago goodbye and heading back to Philly. I love my mom and my sister so freaking much, so I didn’t expect to have any weird heartstrings getting tugged in the opposite direction.
Darius is so close that when I inhale—if I’m brave enough to really expand my lungs—I can smell his manly, fresh, crisp scent. He’s dressed like he’s going to work even though this is totally casual, but I’ve come to realize he does the whole slacks and button-up shirts thing on a regular basis. I’m not complaining. The man has a fabulous ass. And in those pants, oh my god. Just thinking about it sets my ovaries on fire. Thinking about on-fire ovaries makes me think about kitchens and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Darius’ dark whisky eyes, soft hair, perfect bone structure, and all his muscles.
I’m starting to get uncomfortably hot, so I tune back into the movie, eat my popcorn, and distract myself like the good, responsible, friendly fake wife I am. I’ll freely admit that I like my husband when I didn’t expect to. I think that’s a lot more than what most marriages get because I think it usually goes the other way on that front, but I don’t have to like like my husband.
The movie hits its stride, and I’m lost to it instead of my thoughts, thank goodness.
By the end, my mom and Heather are both still sobbing, and Hans is wiping his eyes while not even pretending he’s not. Darius is looking around the room like he missed something, and I’m the one to jump up and turn the lights on after swiping my hand over my wet cheeks. Who doesn’t love a happy ending, right?
“You have killer sound in here,” Heather points out.
“Thanks,” Darius replies like it’s a compliment, but I know where she’s going with this.
“You know what that means? Because Ev knows what that means.” Heather nudges my mom, who is still doing a face mop-up with a tissue from her pocket. “You know what that means too, Mom.” Then, Heather studies Hans. “And you know what that means, don’t you, Hans?”
“Another death metal dance party that makes the ceiling cave in?”
“Dude, we’re on the main floor, but yeah! Who’s up for it? We can pick music videos and rock out. Oh, wait! We can do teams! I’ll go and get the cat!”
Heather is off and running before any of us can tell her not to involve the cat. Some of us would like to keep our faces from being ripped off. I’m going to make sure the little cow-colored demon feline spawn is on my mom and Heather’s team. They’re always a team because my mom hates dancing, and she needs extra encouragement. She’ll pretty much do anything for Heather; she always has. We both have. And that was long before she got sick. Now, we’re extra liable to fall at her feet or dance our asses off, or do whatever she demands, just to see her smile.
“Teams?” Hans asks in question. “I don’t know about that.”