Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
"How'd you manage to find quiet time?"
"It wasn't easy at first. Ollie wasn't a very happy baby. Always with the reflux, crying until I was sure I would go half-mad. The only way it worked was when she was sleeping and I had to lay her across my lap like a cat. But it worked. Now, it's easier. She goes to school for six hours which gives me a ton of time to get some work in."
"What kind of books do you narrate for?"
To that, her lips curved up, mischievous and familiar. "Mostly romance. Really smutty romance," she added, grinning.
"Oh, your parents must have hated that."
"They do. I made sure I told them about my new job in a Christmas card. And included a few titles with it. 'The Virgin's Beast,' 'Shared by the Biker Club,' 'Drilled by the Mod Boss'..."
A laugh bubbled up and burst out at the idea of her ultra-conservative parents opening up a harmless Christmas card to read titles like those, to know the daughter they had pushed away had done the voiceover for them.
"To be a fly on that wall, right?" she asked, smiling. "I send them an updated list every year. I swear I sometimes take a job just because the title is so raunchy that I want to write it down for them."
"I always hoped you would find that rebellious streak I knew was in there somewhere," I told her. "I'm not happy I missed it."
"Oh, it is an ongoing process," she shrugged it off. "Did you notice how I didn't make you take off your shoes when you came in the door?" she added, voice grave in an imitation of her mother.
"That was one I never thought you'd break. You took your shoes off at the clubhouse."
"We have three dogs. It is idiotic to make humans take off their shoes when dogs run in and put their filthy feet over every surface."
"Wait... dogs?" I asked. "Where?"
"You'd never know, right? Lazy, fat things they are. If we got robbed, they'd snore right through it. They're a trio of bulldog siblings we came across at an adoption fair. Olive insisted that they had to grow up together. So... we got three dogs. They're probably sleeping in my bed right now, drooling all over my pillow. They have the life we all dream of."
"So, what happened to Olive's dad after you decided to keep her?"
"Nothing. He walked away. Got his degree. Is working in some big firm in the city."
"He doesn't want to meet her at least?"
"He probably forgot she exists, to be honest. If he wants to meet her some day, I am open to that, but I am not going to force it. And, quite frankly, I don't want to have to deal with him in court over child support. Me and Ollie, we are perfectly happy with just the two of us. Well, and Vance," she said, eyes going soft.
"He comes over often?" I asked.
"Every weekend. More if he has nothing else going on. I hate that he had to leave his dream behind, but I am not going to lie, I am a bit selfishly glad he settled down in Navesink Bank so we can see him all the time."
"I brought donuts!" Vance's voice boomed into the room, making me jerk back a bit. Because we hadn't gotten to that part yet. I meant to tell her. I just wanted to hear what she had been up to first.
"Uncle Vance!" Olive's voice cheered, feet slapping down the hall once again, this time followed by the tap tap tap of dog feet.
"They heard the word donuts," Iggy told me, nodding. "You think I'm joking," she went on, shaking her head. "You'll see."
Then there was Vance, walking in, trailed by three extremely fat bulldogs with comically hideous overbites and corkscrew tails, sniffing the air, looking up at the box in Vance's hand.
His other hand had his niece snagged around the middle, flipped completely upside down, making her squeal uncontrollably.
I expected the somewhat neurotic Iggy, the girl I used to know, to squeak about dropping her on her head or something. Instead, Iggy gave them a soft smile and reached down to pet the head of the brindle colored bulldog that sat near her feet.
Vance dropped the donuts down, then flipped his niece over his arm and back onto her feet before moving over toward me.
"Oh, yeah, Vance, look," Iggy said, completely in the dark.
"I got your old lady ass one of those stupid sour cream ones you like," Vance told me, pressing a kiss to my temple as he moved past to sit in the other open chair.
"If you warm them up, they taste a lot like funnel cakes," I insisted.
"Yeah, sure, Ace. I'm going to eat a coffee roll like a normal human being."