Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Evie’s smile returns. “Cool. Let’s go get pizza.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
HAYDEN
Bree’s kids are adorable mini versions of her—smart, witty, and as sweet as those damn brownies I’m addicted to. When they walked into the coffeehouse and nearly caught us fucking their mom on the kitchen counter, I thought for sure Bree was going to freak out. Instead, she shocked the hell out of me—and based on Brody’s facial expression, him as well—when she admitted to her kids that she’s found love, and Brody and I are her boyfriends. And then again when she agreed to all of us going out to dinner.
“Can we get pineapple?” Evie asks her mom when we walk into a pizzeria down the street from where they live. We’re planning to get a couple of pies and take them over to the park across the street so we can hang out and get to know the kids a little.
“Ugh, not you too,” Brody groans.
“What?” Evie asks, her hand going to her hip like she’s eight going on eighteen. “You talking about my pineapple?”
Brody barks out a laugh. “Yes, my stepmom loves pineapple. Pineapple does not belong on pizza, ever.” He draws out the last word in exaggeration.
“Thank you!” Miles says, throwing his hands up in the air. “Finally, someone on my side. Mom and Evie always want pineapple. It’s so gross.” He fake gags. “Pizza should have sausage and pepperoni, not fruit!”
“Hey,” Bree says. “Don’t mess with our pineapple.”
“You ladies can get that girly sh—stuff,” Brody says, quickly catching himself. “Us, men, will get the manly pizza.”
Bree snorts out a laugh. “Okay, men, enjoy your manly pizza.”
“Yeah, and there’s three of you, so you get less.” Evie sticks her tongue out at her brother and twirls around with an attitude I didn’t know an adorable little girl could possess.
Brody glances at me and silently laughs.
I pull out my phone and send him a text: I have a feeling that things will be a whole lot less boring with these kids around.
Brody checks his phone and grins, then texts me back: I love it. Now, we just have to make Bree smile and laugh so they actually like us.
Me: Truth
Brody: Worst-case scenario, we buy them a puppy.
I crack up laughing and pocket my phone, not bothering to respond. I honestly wouldn’t put it past Brody to buy them a damn puppy.
After we get the food and drinks, we take them over to the park and find a bench to eat on.
“Mom, this is the park for our birthday, right?” Miles asks.
“It is,” she tells him. “I booked the pavilion over there.” She points in the direction of a small pavilion.
“Did you get the bounce house?” Miles asks.
“And the balloon person?” Evie adds. “Oh! And the face-painting person?”
“That’s for girls,” Miles says, his nose scrunching up in disgust. “Mom, can we get an obstacle course bounce house and get it with water? And also, Shane said for his birthday his dad is getting him a big blow-up movie screen to watch a movie on when it’s dark. Can we get one for our birthday?”
“Yeah!” Evie squeals. “That would be so cool. And can we get stuff to paint pictures with?”
As Bree’s eyes bounce from one kid to the other with a look of horror etched in her features, something tells me she didn’t book any of that nor was she planning to.
“Umm,” she says after several moments. “I booked that pavilion,” she says slowly, pointing at it again. “And I thought we would grill some burgers and hot dogs, and you guys can play with your friends. We could, um, maybe…” She swallows thickly. “Why don’t we talk about this later, once we’re home? Right now, let’s eat, and afterward, if you want, you can go play on the playground.”
“But don’t we have to book it now?” Miles asks. “The party is in a few days.”
Bree glances at Brody and me and winces. I’m not sure what’s going on, but it’s obvious she doesn’t want to discuss this with Brody and me around. Could it be because she didn’t invite us? Is she worried we’re going to ask to go? I make a mental note to remind her later that the ball is in her court. Brody and I would never do anything she isn’t comfortable with.
“Miles,” she says softly yet firmly. “We’ll talk about this at home.”
Both kids’ shoulders slump, and I expect them to argue, but instead, they both nod and take their pizza.
The mood is now a bit somber, the kids quietly eating while Bree appears to be lost in her own head. Not wanting the evening to be ruined, I try to make small talk with the kids, but neither one is really interested in conversing. Don’t get me wrong—they’re both polite and answer, but their earlier excitement has dissipated.