Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
“I think life as a spinster would suit me quite well, actually,” I confess.
She drapes her arm around my shoulder and gives me an affectionate squeeze. “You make your mother proud.”
Ray comes down the stairs, flicking a gaze in our direction. “Is she still complaining about the damn toothpaste?”
“It’s weird,” Mom insists as she lets me go.
“It isn’t weird, and a simple no would’ve gotten the point across,” he says, stopping in front of the couch.
Mom looks over at me. “I asked if he was a psychopath.”
“A fair question,” I say.
Ray rolls his eyes. “Since your daughter’s in the room, I won’t remind you of all the other ways we exchange bodily fluids.”
Mom gasps and dramatically covers my ears. “Not in front of these virgin ears.”
I slide her a look, because she knows I’ve slept with Hunter.
“It’s part of Stepford night,” she tells me. “All daughters must remain virgins until they’re married.”
“Ah, right. Well, at least you’ve already been paid a bride price and negotiated the terms of my sales agreement. Maybe my wanton ways can be excused.”
Mom uncovers my ears. “Speaking of your wanton ways…”
I blink. “Wait, what?”
“You came home late last night.”
I flick a glance at Ray, instinctively wondering why she would bring that up when he’s still here before remembering he lives here now—he’s not leaving.
Weird.
“Oh. Yeah, I texted you,” I say, looking back at Mom. “I told you Hunter was picking me up from work.”
“Is he your boyfriend now?”
“No. He just gave me a ride home from work and made us a snack. We had a glass of wine.” Her eyebrows rise, so I explain, “He lived in Italy, he does wine with meals now.”
“Right, of course. Well, the fact remains, you came home super late.”
“I didn’t think you’d care,” I say with a shrug. “You knew where I was, you knew who I was with. I don’t have a curfew. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is I didn’t get to talk to you after work last night and I was already gone when you woke up today, so I didn’t get to tell you I need you to request off work tomorrow.”
I blink at her. “Tomorrow?”
She nods, cringing a bit. “Short notice, I know.”
“Very short notice. I need to know like a week in advance if I’m going to request a day off, Mom. When Hunter doesn’t know that, I understand because he’s never held a blue collar job, but you know I can’t just request the next day off. The schedule is already set. I’m supposed to close tomorrow.”
“I know,” Mom says, pulling a face. “I’m sorry, I would’ve given you more notice, but—”
“It’s my fault,” Ray interrupts.
I look at him.
“I’ve been talking to this potential investor for the gym. I found someone who’s really interested and has the capital, he’s even got social media marketing experience and some good ideas about advertising the gym. He knows how to do the stuff I don’t, and it seems like it would be a really good fit, but we haven’t signed the paperwork yet. He wanted to come over one night this weekend to have dinner with the family, get a feel for me, talk everything over, and hopefully sign the papers so we can get things started.”
“Oh, wow, that’s really great,” I say, trying to think how I could get out of work. “Hmm… I guess I could see if one of the other waitresses would take my shift.”
“I hate to put you out,” Ray says. “I just wanted the whole family here. I want to make a good impression, you know?”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll find a way. If none of the waitresses say yes, I’ll… figure something else out.”
Maybe I’ll ask Hunter to work his magic. I know he’ll gently blackmail me for the favor, but… well, I don’t mind.
Chapter Fifty Six
Riley
“So, what do you know about this investor?” I ask Mom as we stand at the kitchen counter, preparing side dishes to go with dinner.
Ray is outside assembling the new grill he bought since he’s making steaks for the main course.
Mom shakes her head as she tosses the salad. “Nothing, really. Why?”
“I’m just wondering what we should be expecting. I mean, it’s not gonna be Tony Soprano at the dinner table tonight, right? We’re sure this is a legit investor?”
“I don’t think Tony Soprano would be a social media marketing whiz,” she says. “He said the guy knows about marketing, so it sounds legit.”
“But what if by ‘marketing’ he means, ‘Maybe you should join our gym. It sure would be a shame if you didn’t and something were to happen to you…’?”
“Well, that would certainly be interesting,” Mom says. “I’ve never entertained mobsters before. Do you think they’ll be upset that we don’t have a dessert course? Maybe you should run out and grab some cannoli, just in case.”