Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Yeah.” We had to be out of here by nine.
He groaned at the sight of my bed. “Bro.”
I glanced over at the mess of luggage and equipment. “I’ll deal with it.”
He rolled his eyes. “We both know you’re gonna crash on the couch.”
I didn’t see the problem. It was a big, comfy couch.
Roe got huffy, and he yanked his duvet off his bed and came over to me. “I’m too tired to resist procrastination, but I’ll help you later. What are we watching?”
He collapsed next to me and fanned out the duvet.
“A British royal gave birth to another British royal,” I replied.
With his presence flowed a river of ease and contentment, and I had no problem whatsoever joining him in the procrastination. I lifted my arm automatically, and he stretched his legs out across the rest of the couch and leaned back against my side. Last but not least, I rested my arm down his front and planted my feet on the coffee table.
“Kate Middleton,” Roe murmured. “My aunt goes googootz for all that. She and my mom legit mourned when Diana died.”
I did recall a royal plate collection of some sort at their house. Just random plates on the wall in the hallway toward the kitchen, with castles and the faces of queens and princes and duchesses and whatnot.
“I think the only time my mother’s mourned the loss of something was when her favorite housewife magazine became defunct,” I said. “She wrote a strongly worded letter to the publishing house and everythin’.”
Roe let out a laugh. “To quote you, bless her heart.”
I grinned sleepily and yawned.
No fucking wonder Roe and I were killing it at that game show. At this rate, we might have a shot at going to the finals.
“We’re gonna fall asleep here, aren’t we?” He yawned too.
“Probably.”
He’d get no complaints from me.
*
“Ladies and gentlemen, as we begin our initial descent, please return your seat backs and tray tables to their full upright and locked position and fasten your seat belts. Los Angelenos, welcome home. Those of you continuing your journey, we wish you a great day and hope to see you on our flights soon.”
Goddamn, my neck. I groaned under my breath and rubbed the back of my neck, quickly noticing a sleeping New Yorker cuddled up against me.
“Darlin’, wake up. We’re almost home.” I scrubbed a hand over my face and tried to shake the cobwebs of sleep. Then I grabbed my phone off the tray table so I could fold that up against the seat in front of me.
Roe let out a sound of complaint and pulled his blanket higher up. “I’m not ready.”
I chuckled drowsily and rubbed his thigh. “I’m not carryin’ you off the plane.”
“Rude.” He dragged himself up and pushed his sleep mask to his forehead.
The sight was just so fucking perfect. The blanket clinging to his shoulder, the sleep mask, his unfocused gaze, and the bed head.
I took a photo of him, at which he scowled.
That one was just for me.
When we landed ten minutes later, we sucked it up and went through the motions. Thank fuck we had Global Entry now, cutting the security process in half, minimum. But we still had to do two rounds of baggage claim, first to get everything that went with all the other luggage, and then the “special” line for all things oversized and overweight. By then, we’d met up with the rest of our crew, except for those who’d gotten on the Seattle flight in New York.
“Ortiz’s assistant is outside,” Roe yawned.
Good to know. Most of the equipment would be taken to Ortiz’s studio. Roe and I were only bringing home what was ours, and that was plenty enough.
After confirming we’d meet up with our crew after the weekend, we parted ways again, and Roe and I pushed three luggage carts toward the exit.
Haley, Nikki, my boy—and Sandra, I guessed—were waiting at our house with dinner. Which I was really looking forward to. I hadn’t seen Bear in almost three weeks.
Thankfully, we’d become pros at this part. Once outside, we helped James, Ortiz’s guy, load up the truck before he was off. And Roe and I grabbed a cab.
I checked my phone on the way. More accurately, my schedule. Thursday today, just dinner and squeezing the heck out of my boy. Game show taping for our second episode tomorrow, then a dinner meeting with Seth and Haley. Spending the whole day on Saturday with Colin; I was taking him to the aquarium in Long Beach. Nothing on Sunday, tuxedo fitting on Monday… Then two days of work and producing more podcasts before we were off to New York.
Ugh.
Next Friday, Roe was getting married.
Eight days.
The four days we’d spend in New York, along with the game show, had been the reasons we’d ultimately decided against having Haley and Colin visit us in Europe. It just hadn’t made sense, considering we were making an LA detour this week. But safe to say, any future trip longer than three weeks had to include a visit of some kind. I couldn’t go that long without seeing my son again.