Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
But none of that mattered. Eventually, he placed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of me and watched with wide, hopeful eyes as I took a bite. When I told him, “It’s delicious,” he sagged with relief.
Then he popped right back up again and exclaimed, “I forgot the coffee!”
He ran to get me a cup, while I got up and retrieved some more utensils from the drawer. When he came back, I handed him a fork and said, “You made enough for three people. Have some with me.”
He took a cautious bite of egg before flashing me a smile. “It’s not bad. I thought you were just being nice.”
We’d barely finished eating when my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and murmured, “My grandfather is video calling me. That’s new.”
When I answered, I didn’t even get a hello in before he shouted, “Happy birthday, young man! How does it feel to be thirty-seven?”
“Hi, Granddad. It feels good.”
“Damn right it does! What I wouldn’t give to be thirty-seven again, instead of seventy-four. The cliché is true, you know. Youth is wasted on the young.”
“So I hear. When did you learn how to video call?”
“Last week. My new assistant showed me, after insisting I get one of those fancy Apple phones.”
“iPhones.”
“Exactly. He said it was time I joined the twenty-first century. He’s a bit of a smart-ass, but I like him. The kid’s got moxie.” My grandfather was a handsome man, but he was holding the phone at an extremely unflattering angle, which made him look like Jabba the Hut. I decided it was best not to point that out.
“I hope this guy lasts longer than your last few assistants.”
“Good riddance to them. They were useless.” He held the phone closer and squinted at me. I wondered where he’d put his glasses. “My brother’s cook told us you sent him an email, letting him know you’re bringing a guest for the holidays. Who is she, and why is this how I had to find out about her?”
I frowned at that. “I asked the cook not to say anything.” I’d contacted him so he and his staff could plan for an extra guest. I’d also wanted to make sure Embry had vegetarian options at mealtime.
“Of course he said something. We don’t pay him to keep secrets! What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me about her sooner.”
Well, shit. I might as well get it over with. “Not her. Him.”
He looked disappointed. “Oh. Someone from culinary school? Or a new buddy? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you made a friend. You’ve practically become a shut-in since your restaurant closed. But you got my hopes up for a minute there.”
“You misunderstand, Granddad. I’m not bringing a ‘buddy.’ I’m bringing my husband.”
“Come again?”
“I know this is a big bombshell, which is why I was waiting to tell you in person. But there it is. I got married two weeks ago, to a sweet, beautiful man named Embry.” I held up my hand to show him the wedding ring. “He’s looking forward to meeting you.”
He took that in for a long moment. Then he surprised me by grinning and exclaiming, “Your Great Uncle Charles owes me five bucks!”
“Why?”
“We had a bet going. I said you were gay, and he said you were just shy around the ladies. I’ve finally been proven right.”
What the actual fuck? “You were placing bets on my sexuality?”
“Well, sure. This was five, six years ago. You were well over thirty by that point and had yet to bring a girl home to meet the family. Naturally, I put two and two together.” And he’d completely gotten the wrong number!
“I can’t believe this.”
“Don’t worry, son. I’m not one of those closed-minded old coots who has a problem with homosexuals. I’ve been expecting this news for ages, so I’ve had time to come to terms with it.”
“First of all, I’m bisexual, not gay.” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to make that point. Maybe it was because I’d mentioned going out with women in the past, and I wanted him to know that hadn’t been some sort of elaborate ruse.
“Same thing.”
“No, it isn’t. And I can’t believe you bet on me like it’s the Kentucky Derby, and I’m Seabiscuit!”
Embry, who’d been watching this whole conversation closely, whispered, “Seabiscuit never ran in the Kentucky Derby.”
I turned to him and asked, “Why do you know that?”
Embry shrugged, and my grandfather asked me, “Is he there with you now?”
I felt like I was rapidly losing control of this conversation. “Of course. Like I said, we’re married, so we’re obviously living together.”
“Why would you get married and keep it a secret?”
“We eloped to Las Vegas and didn’t tell anyone, apart from a handful of friends.”
“But not me, your own flesh and blood.”