Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
I glance at Mom, a little concerned. “I didn’t see their car out front?” My grandparents, Chuck and Beth, drive a huge red Lincoln Navigator so it’s not like I would’ve overlooked it.
Her sad smile tells me a lot, none of it good. “They flew in. I’m not sure driving this far would be a good idea.”
“Are they okay?” I whisper, but my siblings are all listening, anyway.
“Yes, they’re fine. Still riding horses every day and doing his recumbent bike, but I think it’s easier for them to go to the airport, take a short flight, and be here before they finish their onboard snack.”
I can see that, considering they’ll have flown private into a small, local airport. No commercial flights for Chuck and Beth Harrington when Grandad could buy the whole damn airport if he wanted to.
Mom starts to usher us into the living room, but Kayla stops me and Riley. “If you’re wanting to keep things on the down-low, you probably want to quit holding hands.” She says it completely straight-faced, but her blue eyes are virtually dancing.
It feels so natural that I didn’t even realize our hands are wound together, and though I hate to do it, I release Riley’s hand. Still, I give her a solid look of support. “We’ve got this.”
Kayla sighs in annoyance. “Your peptalks suck.”
Before I can respond, she’s already walked away, her stiletto heels clicking on the marble floor before sinking into the plush carpeting of the living room. As Riley and I follow her, the only sounds are my heart pounding in my ears and our feet slightly thumping, because despite Riley’s silky leopard skirt and black sweater, she’s in her combat boots, which are perfect as far as I’m concerned. Riley’s bracelets and necklaces don’t even make a sound, which is how I know she’s such a nervous wreck, and she’s walking stiffly.
“Hi, Grandad, Grandmom,” I tell them as we enter the room. Grace is sitting between them on one of the sofas, probably having made room for herself there by squeezing right in. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Get over here and hug my neck,” Grandmom orders. She pushes herself up from the lush couch cushion with more ease than I’d expect of someone her age and yanks me down into a firm-armed hug. “Been too long, Cameron. I didn’t even recognize Grace at first. She went and grew up on me.” She stares at me accusingly like I’m responsible for the too-fast passage of time.
“I know. She does that to me too. Goes to bed looking so young and then wakes up rolling her eyes and calling me ‘Daaad’.” I throw my voice into an approximation of Grace’s annoyed voice, and Grandmom laughs.
“They all do that, I’m afraid. And you are?” Grandmom turns her attention to Riley.
I didn’t prepare for this. Everyone else knows there’s more than meets the eye with us, but I can’t exactly explain all that on the fly with Grace sitting a mere three feet away and likely listening even as she plays ‘count the coins’ with Grandad, a game that always ends with him giving her five one-dollar coins.
“This is Riley Stefano. Riley, this is my grandmother, Beth.” There’s so much I could say, but I stick with just Riley’s name, because calling her ‘Grace’s nanny’ doesn’t sit right with me when it’s only partially true.
Luckily, Grandmom is smart as a whip, and pretty accurate with one too. “Nice to meet you, Riley. Hope you’re keeping this one in line. He likes to think he’s all high and mighty, Mr. Dudley-Do-Right, but he’s as naughty as the rest of this lot. He just hides it better.”
Riley laughs but sticks to a friendly, “Nice to meet you too.”
Eventually, conversation turns back to a madhouse and it’s only me and her. She’s found a seat in one of the plush chairs, and I perch on the armrest, wanting to be close to her. She taps my arm, and I lean down to listen to whatever she wants to tell me. “Double-checking myself… Luna and Carter,” she points at my brother and his wife, and I nod. “Samantha and Chance.” Another point, another nod. “Janey and Cole, of course. Dani and Kyle.” One last nod.
Is it stupid that I like that she introduces my brothers in relation to their wives? Probably. But it’s the truth. For each of us Harrington brothers, there have been girls and women who chased us because of our money and/or our good looks. But to Riley, they’re just the husbands of the women she’s already met and made friends with, and I love that. Mostly for her, but selfishly, for myself a bit too.
“What about your dad?” she whispers.
I’m the one rolling my eyes like Grace now. “Probably in his office. Global markets don’t close for a U.S. holiday, so he’ll probably work until Mom calls him to the table.”