Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
“You know,” she laughs after swallowing. “I pray every single day and I thank God for bringing you into our lives.”
“Glad to be here.” We toast and then take another drink.
“So, in all honesty, who is cooking?” she asks. “Because I know Maria isn’t here, and the cupboards are looking pretty dry.”
“Me!” I place my glass back onto the countertop. “I’m not bad at cooking. I love food, and I love eating. Obviously,” I look down at my curves.
Jessica’s eyes run down my body. “Pardon? Mrs. Size Two.”
“Size four,” I correct. “And that’s a very hard to maintain size four. These curves? Are not the good kind. They’re the kind that jiggle.”
Jessica sighs, looking out into the distance. “I would kill for jiggly curves. I hate being petite.”
“Oh,” I roll my eyes. “Must be so terrible to be able to eat what you want and not put on weight.” I want to punch her.
She laughs but looks down to her drink with a sad look casting over her face. “Yeah, I guess that’s what most people think. But I’ve always had eating issues. Mainly eating disorders. When I look in the mirror, I see a whale, but people tell me I’m small, and don’t,” she shakes her head, “don’t say ‘oh you’re being ridiculous, you’re tiny,’ I don’t tell you this for sympathy or for you to tell me how skinny I am. It’s just, I’ve always had a very bad relationship with food, even though I love to eat! I wish I could eat and it not impact how I view myself.”
“Jessica…” I whisper sadly because I can’t quite wrap my head around what she has just said. I’ve heard about these disorders, obviously, but to know that someone so close to me is struggling with it sort of hits home. “Well!” I get up off my stool, tipping the rest of my wine down my throat. “Looks like we’re having nachos for dinner.”
Jessica’s eyes beam. “Really!”
I nod. “Uh huh.”
She squeals, running around to me and wrapping me in her arms. “Best sister ever!” Then she pulls back and points back to my chair. “So!” Oh no. I look at her. “I hear that he took you to the rents’ house. How’d that go?”
I laugh, relaxing slightly because she still doesn’t know about Justin. “Ah, it wasn’t as bad as I expected. Though in my defense, I didn’t know where we were actually going until we arrived at the house.”
“The street name didn’t give it away?” she asks with a judgey eyebrow quirked.
“Street name?”
“Yeah.” She takes a sip of her wine. “It’s called Royal Lane. They named it after my great-great whatever he was. Anyway, the house is old as fuck, and also, very haunted. I don’t sleep in the main house when I do stay. I stay in the pool house.”
Ahhh, that glorious pool house. My cheeks heat and my core clenches with the memories swimming in my brain.
“I knew it,” I mutter, my eyes glazing over. “I knew that house felt haunted.”
“Oh yeah,” she adds between taking sips of wine. “It’s very haunted.”
I shiver, although I’m pretty sure the reasons why she says it’s haunted has a lot to do with the history of the house and the age. Not really because of the same reasons as me.
The front door opens, and Brian walks through carrying armfuls of grocery bags. I chuckle, getting to my feet and going to help him. “Thank you, Mrs. Royal.”
“Can I be miss Royal?” Jessica winks at poor Brian and he stiffens. “Ma’am, you are miss Royal.”
Jessica rolls her eyes and takes out some grapes from one of the paper bags. “You call my mom ma’am, Brian.”
Brian looks between both of us, and I wave him off, sensing his discomfort. Jessica Royal, a royal pain in the ass. “Thank you, Brian, but I don’t suppose you could take us back to the store? I’ve decided to make nachos for dinner tonight so I will need to gather all the ingredients.”
Brian nods. “I don’t mind going back.”
“No,” I shake my head, rinsing my glass under the water. “We can go.”
An hour later, no shit, a whole hour to pick up mince, garlic, onions, red wine—plus more wine for while I cook—a tin of tomatoes, salsa, lettuce, sour cream, avocado, and some taco shells, and we’re finally back home in the kitchen, waiting for the pan to heat up. Jessica hasn’t let a single moment of silence pass between us during the entire time, but I appreciate it. It’s keeping my mind busy.
Looking up at the time, I see it’s almost five p.m., so it’s a good thing nachos don’t take long to cook. I don’t know much about Bryant’s meeting with Samsung, but if suits is any indication as to meeting times, even though Harvey Specter can talk, I’d say I’d be expecting him home soon.