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)
“Think about it.” Oliver rises from his bar stool. “No pressure. Just consider it.”
“How safe is it though?”
“You won’t find safer boats than mine. I’ve got everything. Life jackets. Inflatable rafts. Flares. Satellite cell phones. Radio. Emergency food and water. Navigation. First aid kit. Weather monitor. Anchors. Do you want me to go on?”
Exhaling, I study the eagerness washing over his face. If I squint, he almost looks like a one-off of Slade but with fewer muscles, slightly lighter hair, and a hint of crow’s feet at the corners of his chocolate-brown eyes.
“We won’t go more than twenty, thirty miles out,” he adds. “We can stay close to the shore if that makes you feel better.”
“I get seasick sometimes …”
“Dramamine. I have Dramamine in all of my first aid kits.” Oliver chuckles. “Your excuses won’t work on me. They might buy you some time, but one of these days I’m going to get you on one of my boats.”
“Sounds like you’re not going to take ‘no’ for an answer.”
“I’m a Delacorte.” He places his mug in the dishwasher. “What do you expect?”
“True.”
“I promise I’ll get you home safely and you’ll have the time of your life.” Oliver lifts a hand, making a Scout’s Honor sign with his fingers.
“What kind of promises are you making now?” Slade appears in the arched doorway to the kitchen, his hair slicked wet from his shower, donning a slim fit white polo and navy slacks that show off his taut runner’s build.
“He wants to take me yachting,” I tell him.
“Did you tell him not everyone’s as obsessed with boats as he is?”
I offer Oliver a warm smile. Slade can be cruel sometimes. I’m sure he’s used to it, but I hate for anyone’s passions to be insulted on my watch.
“He thinks he can get me over my fear of boating,” I say.
“I don’t think I can—I know I can.” Oliver squeezes my shoulder on his way past. “I should head out, check on my contractors. I’ll just meet up with you guys at the restaurant.” As he passes Slade, he taps him on the arm. “Your mom showed me all the baby stuff they got the other day.”
“What are you talking about?” Slade’s brows lift and his gaze travels from Oliver to me and back.
“I forgot to tell you … your mom wanted to get a few baby things the other day,” I say. I hadn’t forgotten so much as it hadn’t come up in conversation and I didn’t want to blurt it out with no context or warning.
Slade’s expression turns blank.
I was expecting a reaction, but not … that.
Not … nothing.
“She’s really excited to be a grandma someday,” I tell him. “I know we’re quite a ways from that, but she was having so much fun, I didn’t want to take that from her.”
“Can I be honest? I cannot begin to imagine the two of you with a baby,” Oliver interjects. “If you can’t stand each other now, wait until you’re arguing over who has to get up for the third time in the middle of the night with a screaming baby. Wait. Never mind. Slade will probably hire a night nurse. He outsources everything.”
“It’s called being efficient,” Slade shoots back.
I wrinkle my nose. “We don’t need a nanny. I had several growing up and they were great, but I always missed my mom. I always wished I was doing all of those childhood things with her instead of someone who was paid to do them with me. I want to be as hands on as possible with my children.”
“You say that now,” Oliver chuckles. “Talk to me when you’re on baby number two and you’re going on three years of sleep deprivation.”
“You’re quite the parenting expert over there for someone who’s never held a baby in his life,” Slade says to Oliver.
Despite being Slade’s half-uncle, the two have always acted more like brothers, with Slade being the serious one and Oliver providing the wisecracks. In an offbeat way, I consider Oliver one of the perks of marrying into this family. There’s never a dull moment when he’s around.
“You’re not going to fit in out here if you don’t have a nanny,” Oliver says, though the glint in his eyes tells me he’s only half joking. “Just so you’re aware.”
“Good thing I’ve never cared about fitting in,” I say. “Anyway, I should start getting ready for brunch.”
Coffee mug in hand, I head upstairs, only I’m not quite to the foyer when Oliver’s voice trails from the kitchen.
“I can’t believe you’re not more jazzed about marrying this woman,” Oliver says. “She’s perfection and you can’t even see it.”
.
Slade (AKA BMOC)—
How’s college life? Your dad said you joined a frat. Little cliché, don’t you think? What’s next? Keg stands and toga parties?
Campbell (age 18)
Campbell—
It’s called networking.
Slade (age 19)