Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I pretend to be excited about these things, but only for her.
“I can’t wait to see you in a tuxedo,” she says with a dreamy sigh. “It’ll be the best day of your life and the second best day of mine.”
The first best day of her life was the day I was born—naturally.
Oliver and I exchange looks. Last month the doctors gave her three to six months to live. Odds are, she won’t make it to the big day. I offered to move the wedding up, but she wouldn’t have it. Save the dates had already been sent, and she didn’t want six hundred people to have to rearrange their travel plans for her. That and she didn’t want six hundred people knowing she was dying, nor did she want to steal an ounce of attention at our wedding.
“The Wakemonts send their love, by the way,” I tell her.
Mom places a hand over her heart and smiles. “I can’t wait to see them this August. It’ll be the celebration of a lifetime.”
Oliver tops off his bourbon and takes a generous sip. While he’s technically her brother-in-law, he and I are a mere ten years apart and have more of a sibling dynamic. Growing up, Oliver spent most of his teenage years living under our roof and considers my mom more of a mother figure than his own.
He doesn’t always show it, but he’s struggling to come to terms with our inevitable loss as much as I am.
The realization that one day soon I’ll wake up and not be able to call my mother or see her smiling face is something that has haunted my every waking second lately.
Over the years, my father has spent tens of millions flying her all around the world to consult with the best doctors and receive experimental care not yet available stateside. What good is having all the money in the world when it can’t buy the one thing you want the most? The most precious and finite resource known to man?
Time …
While I’ve never looked forward to getting married, knowing how happy it would make my mother has played a huge part in looking past the absurdity of it all. She was excited to be a grandmother, too—a privilege she’ll never have the joy of experiencing now.
“Oliver had a date last night,” Mom lifts her brows and offers an impish grin. “Tell him about it, Oliver. What was her name again?”
Oliver chokes on his drink. “Her name isn’t important because there won’t be a second date.”
“Tell him why though,” Mom prompts. For a moment it feels like we’re all back to our normal selves, chatting about Oliver’s usual shenanigans like each of our lives aren’t three to six months away from drastically changing forever.
“Remember that woman who was stalking me last year?” Oliver asks, rolling his eyes.
“The one who worked at your dry cleaner’s? Then got a job cleaning your boats?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “So this was her best friend. Only I didn’t know that until we went back to her place.”
Mom covers her mouth as she listens, as engaged as if she’s enjoying the story for the first time all over again.
“We were, um,” Oliver clears his throat. “Having a nightcap. In her room. When I kept hearing this noise in the closet, like a rustling sound or something moving. I thought maybe it was in my head, and I ignored it for a while, but then I heard it again.”
“Your stalker was in the closet watching?” I ask.
“Yep.” He tosses back the rest of his bourbon before slamming the tumbler down.
“What about the restraining order?” I ask.
“She technically didn’t violate it since I went to their apartment,” he says.
“Wait, I’m confused—how did you meet the roommate in the first place?” I take a seat for this.
“She approached me at a bar the other week,” Oliver says. “Pretty sure the stalker put her up to it.”
“That’s what you get for being such a man-whore.” I pour myself a drink. “I don’t feel sorry for you.”
“Good, because I don’t want your sympathy anyway.” He grabs the decanter from me and refills his glass.
“I’m sure there’s a perfectly lovely girl out there for you, Oliver,” Mom interjects. “We’ll find her one of these days.”
Oliver has always skirted the line between being a trust-fund playboy to being utterly pussy-whipped. There’s rarely an in between and because of that, he’s earned a reputation in Palm Beach for being one of the most eligible bachelors. His only issue is he tends to self-sabotage when things are going too well.
“Slade, I was thinking, maybe Campbell could come out here sometime?” Mom changes the subject. “I haven’t seen her since the engagement party last year, and I missed her when she visited last month since I was in the hospital. Do you think she’d be open to coming down soon?”