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)
“It’s got the same amount of caffeine as a cup of coffee, you only have one, plus you drink enough water that you probably pee totally clear.” I hold up a hand to stop her from telling me if that’s correct because TMI. “If the doctor says it’s okay, you’re fine,” I reassure her.
“Thanks.” She barely gets the word out before she’s taking another drink.
“What do you want me to do today? Laundry? Clean the kitchen or bathrooms? Watch the monitor so you can shower in peace or take a nap? We should take advantage of the few minutes he’s going to sleep.” I peek at the monitor feed pulled up on her phone. She has it open constantly, often just watching Emmett sleep with a happy smile ghosting across her face.
“Can we talk?” There’s no happy smile now. She leans against the counter like she needs its support to stay vertical.
My heart flip-flops because nothing good ever comes out of a start like that. “Uh, yeah. About what?”
“Literally anything not involving poop, spit-up, nursing, or baby things. I want to talk about adult things… wait, not like adult things.” She giggles in exhaustion, and I give her a reassuring smile. “Unless you want to talk about that. If that’s what’s on your mind, that’s fine,” she clarifies. With a sigh, she finally admits, “I just need to hear about what’s happening outside the walls of this house. Literally anything is fair game. Please.”
I laugh at her gushing outpouring of words. “Bad news there, I literally have zero adult things to discuss, and I think Cole would kill me if you shared anything about your sex life.” She nods like ‘yeah, that’s true.’ “But do you want to see the pants I found thrifting? They’re this amazing plaid and I had quite the surprising model for them.”
I pull up the picture on my phone that shows Grace in her redone skirt, me in my cat t-shirt, and Cameron in the ridiculous pants, and flip it around to show Janey. Her jaw falls open as she rips the phone from my hand to get a closer look.
“Are you serious? How did you get Cameron to do that? Blackmail? Threats? Drugs? Or is it AI?” Her eyes are scouring the picture of the three of us like she might find a tell-tale sixth finger or blurred background, but she won’t find anything other than a real photo taken in the family room. There’s not even an auto-correct filter run on the image.
It’d been Grace’s idea, a memory of a fun day, and though she’d had to sweet-talk Cameron into taking the picture with the pants on, he’d done it. For her.
I understand now why he’s so wrapped around Grace’s finger. She literally saved him from the depths of despair, and in return, he wants to make her as happy as possible. It’s noble, and though that’s not a word I’d typically use given it’s the Twenty-First Century, it’s true.
I think the picture is my new favorite. I’d make it my phone’s lock screen, except that’d be weird since it’s my boss and my charge, not my actual family. But I don’t have one of those, and it’d be kinda cool to see us happily smiling rather than a generic wallpaper that came with the phone.
“Grace talked him into the picture,” I explain.
“Not that. The pants!” she exclaims. “Was that Grace too?” When I shake my head with a self-satisfied smirk, she gawks at me. “How in the hell did you do that?”
“Asked nicely?” I suggest, not sounding sure. Honestly, I’m not sure how I did it. I did ask. I also gave him a pleading look and said please, and then suddenly, he agreed, though I know how out of his comfort zone the request was.
He’s been dipping out of his comfort zone a lot lately.
The little devil in my ear doesn’t sound like Miller anymore, but he’s just as suggestive. Cameron has been different from how he was when I first arrived. He’s smiling, laughing, and he played tag with me, leaving my flabbers downright gasted. I fully expected him to abandon me in the yard like a childish idiot. But he hadn’t, and we’d had fun. I don’t think he usually has fun. But his serious, staid, uptight façade is starting to crack, which is good for him. And Grace.
I think that might be the reason I’m here—to help both of them find joy again in the wake of their loss. Cameron’s been on autopilot for a long time, and while he’s done a fantastic job with Grace, they both deserve more—more sunshine, more silliness, and a whole lot more happiness.
“I’m sure asking was all it took,” Janey says, making it sound a hell of a lot more suggestive than I did. I can feel the heat of a flush on my cheeks, and she grins knowingly. “Damn, girl, okay… Cameron?” Her meaning is clear as day, and I rush to argue, but she’s on another one of her verbal rolls. “I mean, he’s good-looking, obviously. All the Harringtons are. Lucky bastards won the genetic lottery, but he’s so…” She stands upright, spine straight, arms crossed, and face expressionless other than a slight frown in a near-perfect imitation of Cameron’s usual demeanor. “I guess there’s someone for everyone, though. I mean, look at me and Cole.”