Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“Hmmm.” She nodded, giving me hope we were close to a breakthrough. “You suck ass and you won’t last.”
Okay, I give up.
I inhaled the fresh lavender scent from the twins’ linens and placed them on a shelf with their newest blankets.
Laundry time was quickly becoming my favorite task.
Since I handled it during their second afternoon nap, I enjoyed utter peace and quiet. I also used the time to catch up on my favorite podcast, When You Want to Murder Your Boss.
“Nanny May was only twenty-seven years old when she realized her boss was working her to death,” today’s host said, “so she decided to kill him first. Tired of his endless demands, she armed herself with a nail gun and tiptoed to his bedroom in the middle of the night.”
Mr. Dawson cleared his throat from behind, and I hit pause.
“May I help you with something, Mr. Dawson?” I asked.
I didn’t bother explaining away the podcast.
“My housekeeping manager accidentally left William’s Binky Bunny in San Fran today,” he said. “I need you to go get it.”
“Sure.” I nodded. “I’ll be right on it after I finish their laundry.”
“It’d be better if you do it now,” he said. “You’ll cut into your sleeping hours with the travel, and you’ll need all those for tomorrow.”
“I’ve braved plenty of rush hour traffic in my life,” I said. “I doubt it’ll take me more than two hours for me to run to a store.”
“Who said anything about a store?” he asked. “San Fran, as in San Francisco the city, Miss Hawthorne.”
“You want me to fly to California?”
“I wouldn’t expect you to walk.”
“But that’s…” I paused. “Can I ask a dumb question?”
“I’ve never heard a smart one.”
Ugh. “Can you just buy him another Binky Bunny from the store?” I asked. “It would save time, fuel, and energy costs.”
“You sound more concerned about my plane than my child, Miss Hawthorne.”
“I’m merely suggesting that you purchase him an identical pacifier. It’s not like he’ll notice the difference.”
“The Binky Bunny is the only pacifier he’s used since you started working here, and he’s had it since he was five weeks old,” he said. “It’s a custom-made gift, the only one he’s ever liked.”
I crossed my arms, refusing to believe that.
Sensing my skepticism, he walked to the dresser and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a similar stuffed bunny and held it out for me.
Then he gestured to the others.
“Try giving him any of these during his next meltdown and see for yourself,” he said. “My pilot will keep the jet waiting for you and the children until eight.”
“I have to take the children with me?”
“No, I’m sure they can stay here and care for themselves until you get back.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m off to work.”
Holding back a scream, I kicked the soiled clothes bin—sending dirty diapers all over the floor.
William’s ‘I’m awake now’ cries startled me during dinner.
I rushed to the nursery and scooped him up, holding him against my chest.
“It’s okay, William.” I patted his back. “It’s okay.”
He wailed and made an “O” with his lips, telling me he wanted a soother.
“I have one for you.” I slid a bright blue one into his mouth. “Don’t worry.”
He sucked on it a few times and stopped crying.
I knew it.
Giving it a few more sucks, he wriggled and spit it out. Then he screamed louder than before.
“Okay, okay.” I walked over to the dresser and pulled out another option. “You have plenty of new soothers to try. Don’t cry, don’t cry.”
It took sixteen others for me to accept defeat.
I dressed him and Charlotte in matching sweatsuits and called the pilot.
SEVENTEEN (B)
HARLOW
Yards of fuzzy brown fleece and robin blue buttons lay scattered on the nursery floor.
My fingers were numb from hours of needlework, but I was too wired and livid to stop.
Bzzzz! Bzzzz! Bzzzz!
“Hello?” I answered my phone without looking at the screen.
“What are you doing?” Sasha asked.
“Sewing an army of Binky Bunnies.”
“Um, okay…Why?”
“Because I need to get this done before the twins wake up,” I said.
“So, you’re not slipping out to join me in the lobby for ‘Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde’ tequilas?”
“After I’m finished.”
“Harlow, I’m already downstairs, and it’s ten o’clock.”
“After I’m finished.” I stabbed the needle through the pacifier, giving the first bunny a new eye.
“Would you like me to come up and help you sew, then?”
“Yes, please, but we can’t talk about anything except these bunnies. We must make sure each one is one-hundred-percent perfect.”
“Oh god, Harlow…” She sighed. “Tell the security guy to let me onto the elevator.”
It was four in the morning when we completed our first set. I compared the picture of the custom pacifier to our editions and couldn’t spot a single difference.
Two down, twenty to go.
EIGHTEEN
PIERCE
Denise pulled her Bentley in front of my condo on a Saturday night.
After sixteen hours of nonstop work, I’d hoped to feel a boost of euphoria like I used to, but the only thing I felt was exhaustion.