Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“You’re horrible people,” I told them. “Just horrible.”
“Horrible and old? This keeps getting better.” Shan drank from his wine.
I took another shrimp.
“And mean,” I added. “You’re fucking with me.”
“I don’t think so,” West mused. “At our age, we’re too busy making sure we don’t break our hips.”
“Indeed.” Shan shook his head.
Kellan shook his head too, but in amusement. “Aight, fuckin’ enough. Shan, you still call me kid sometimes, so you’re one to talk. And tell me right now you and West have never referred to us as the youngsters or boys.”
“What he said!” I pointed.
At long fucking last, West started cracking. He was struggling to hide the mirth in his eyes, and he snuck in and hugged me and kissed my cheek. But Shan continued, claiming he had no recollection of ever calling Kellan kid, and that was such bullshit. Even I had heard that.
“Then again, what do I know? I’m so old I’ve lost my memory,” he finished.
Pffft. “Yeah, okay. You’re gonna give me grays, and then I’ll be just as ancient as you two.”
West’s kiss to my jaw turned into a sharp nip.
I smiled at him.
CHAPTER 20
Alfie Scott
Thanksgiving was shaping up to be a weird day. Life was good, but we were hella uprooted at the moment. The house in Ardmore was a bit of a mess because we’d put all the shit from the Center City house in various rooms and in the garage. We’d also started packing some stuff for our move in February.
The house on Wister was it. West and I had done a single walk-through, and shit had just clicked for us. Now, the couple who was selling it and had watched their kids move out one by one had clearly not remodeled since the ’60s, so we had a lot to get done. But the structure of it, the layout, the comfy nooks in the arched windows, the size, how we could see the entire backyard from the patio…yeah, that was our forever home.
The most rattling thing about today was West and whatever was going on in his family, though. Despite that it’d been years since I’d celebrated the holiday having to put up with seeing Lucille and Bob, not to mention West’s sisters, being back together with him had sort of smacked me right into the headspace where I assumed we’d return to old traditions. And the old tradition dictated that we saw them in some capacity. If we were at my folks’ for dinner, then we had breakfast or brunch with the Scotts, and vice versa.
To make matters worse, Mom had woken up yesterday with a fever—according to Dad—and I wasn’t sure I bought it. Neither was West. We speculated she was building up to a cancelation. She’d been off lately. I’d seen Dad’s concern. He was worried about her but didn’t tell me shit.
I was wondering if the nightmares were back.
Now that she was off her painkillers altogether, maybe the trauma of the whole attack was coming to the surface. I didn’t know how those things worked, only that she’d been super tight-lipped about everything. Whenever I’d asked her about therapy and nightmares, she’d downplayed things and then brushed me off completely, pretending the ordeal was over.
After shoving another moving box into the guest room, I located West in the kitchen, where he was cleaning the nice china.
“I have zero Thanksgiving spirit,” I said.
He smiled sympathetically and wiped down another plate. As if they weren’t clean already. They’d been sitting in the china cabinet in the living room for ages.
“It does feel a bit off,” he conceded. “Maybe that will change once your parents get here.”
Maybe. If they showed up.
Had it not been for Mom and Dad being invited, I would’ve accepted the invitation to go to Finn and Emilia’s place. They were doing it up big. And for Christmas, they’d be in Ireland.
“Daddies!” Ellie hollered from upstairs. “Can I have more ice cream?”
“One bowl was enough!” I called back. “There’ll be plenty of sugar after dinner!”
“And bring the bowl back down here, please!” West added.
I folded my arms over my chest and leaned against the stove, and I just observed him for a moment. Was I imagining things or—no, fuck that. Something about him had changed.
No matter his personal issues with his parents, he had always been a man with a sense of duty and commitment. If he was in the middle of a fight with them, he would still make sure Ellie and Trip got to see them. He kept people and situations separate.
Lucille called West on his cell at least once a day. He never picked up. She never walked her snooty ass over here. But she did call.
“Are you really never gonna speak to your folks again?” I had to ask.
He offered a light shrug and kept polishing the plates. “I can’t predict the future, but I have no desire to do so at the moment.”