Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“That’s true. My sisters and I sometimes talk about getting matching tattoos. I think when the twins are old enough, we’ll probably do it.”
“The twins?”
“I’m the oldest of five sisters. The two youngest are twins.”
“Five sisters?”
“Yes.” She giggled. “There are three MacAllister girls from our dad’s first marriage. Me—I’m the oldest. Felicity—she’s twenty-eight and runs a catering company, and she just got married this past summer. And Winnie—she’s twenty-four, and she’s in charge of events at Abelard Vineyards, which isn’t far from here. And her boyfriend Dex was a SEAL.”
“I like him already.”
She smiled. “The final two MacAllister sisters are Audrey and Emmeline. My dad remarried when I was twelve, so they’re a little younger. Seniors in high school.”
“I cannot imagine being the father of teenage daughters, let alone five of them.” I shook my head. “That’s insane.”
“He’s a good dad. And Frannie, my stepmom, is amazing. My biological mom . . . not so much.”
“Do you have a relationship with her?”
Millie was silent for a moment. “That’s complicated.”
“You don’t have to talk about it. I was just curious.”
“I don’t mind, really. My real mom’s name is Carla, and she left my dad when I was ten. I mean, she left all of us—my sisters and me too.”
“Fuck. Really?”
“Yeah. Just . . . changed her mind about having a family and left. She blamed my dad, of course. Said he didn’t love her enough. But it was bullshit—I knew it even then.”
“I was about that age when my dad left too. But he left my mom for someone else.”
“There might have been someone else for my mother, I’m not sure. She moved back down to Georgia and in with her parents, and she never came back.”
“Not even to visit?”
“Not really. She’d make a lot of promises about visits, but rarely followed through. I learned pretty fast not to believe anything she said.” Millie was silent a moment. “She was hard on me.”
“What do you mean?”
“She used to get on me about my weight all the time. I was a serious dancer growing up, and she’d always point out how thin ballerinas were. She obsessed over her own size too. She was just very focused on appearances, and she had a way of making me feel bad about mine.”
“That’s shitty.”
“I used to get these horrible stomachaches whenever she would visit, and then I started getting them whenever she tried to contact me. After a while, I started wishing she’d just stay out of my life.” She sighed. “But then I’d feel so guilty. She’s my mom, and you’re supposed to love your mom.”
“Parents can really fuck you up.” Like what I’m doing right this second, I thought. If my son knew what I was doing, he’d lose all respect for me. He’d think I was a liar and a dick.
“Yeah, but she taught me some valuable lessons too,” said Millie.
“Like what?”
“I have a pretty good bullshit detector, honed by years of listening to her lies. I don’t automatically trust that everything anyone tells me is true. And I’ve learned not to look outside myself for validation—you can’t base your self-worth on someone else’s feelings,” she said vehemently.
I nodded slowly. “So you don’t trust easily?”
“Not really.” She raised her eyes from my chest. Her lips curved into a shy smile. “Although I suppose I trusted you pretty easily, going up to your hotel room like that.”
“That’s right. I could have had nefarious intentions. In fact, I’m pretty sure I did.” I rolled on top of her and pinned her wrists to the mattress. “And still do.”
She laughed. “Clearly, I did not mind.”
I kissed her deeply, slowly, as our bodies came alive again. My cock started to swell, and I groaned. “I have to go.”
“Right now?”
I looked down at her beautiful face, felt her warm, soft skin against mine, caught the lingering scent of her perfume. My heart was ballooning in my chest and beating much too loud. Too fast. “Yes,” I told her. “My flight leaves at six. I need to leave for the airport in just a couple hours.”
“You could change your flight,” she said softly. “Leave later in the day?”
“What good would that do? Even if I stayed for a week—or two weeks—what are we going to do, sneak around in the dark like teenagers breaking curfew? Hiding from people we care about? Hoping no one sees us and starts to talk?”
“I know,” she said again, her eyes closing. “I know everything you’re saying is true. I know it isn’t right to hide what we’re doing, and I know we can’t see each other again once you leave. This could never work—on so many levels. It’s just . . . wrong.” But even as she spoke the words, she twined her legs around mine, digging her heels into the backs of my thighs, pulling me closer.