Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
My brows lowered. “I feel like I’m letting you down. Letting us down.”
“Why? Because we don’t have hundreds of dollars in savings?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“But that’s not wealth, Harry. That was never what wealth was.”
“My father would say differently.”
“Your father is a sour man. But you, my darling,” she placed a hand against my cheek, “You are sweet.”
How did she do that so easily with her touches? Calm my entire being?
“Would you love me if I failed?”
“Oh, sweet love of mine,” she slowly laid back down and then snuggled in against me. “I’d love you if you only had a piece of dirt to your name. And then, we’d plant some flowers.”
I placed my lips against her forehead. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “You do. But I know you probably need to get up and going. I’m sorry. I’m still so tired.”
“I am, too.”
She huffed. “You’re not tired.”
“I am if you are. So today we rest.”
She wanted to argue but placed her head on my shoulder instead.
So we rested.
CHAPTER 20
Theo
Present Day
The day of the anniversary party was a whirlwind. People were coming in and out of my place to set up for the celebration. By noon, I was already peopled-out, yet I kept a semi-smile on my face because the day wasn’t about me—it was PaPa’s and Grandma’s. I’d do whatever was needed and possible to make the day a success for the two of them.
The other day, I stopped by to see my grandparents, and I could tell PaPa wasn’t doing his best. When I asked, he told me all was well, but I knew my grandfather well enough to know that he’d never tell me if something was wrong. He’d always put on a brave face, even in the darkest moments. I knew we were passing through the darkest moment yet. Each second felt like a step closer to goodbye. I wasn’t ready to face goodbye yet. Then again, I didn’t think anyone was.
A few years ago, PaPa fell in the bathroom. He never told anyone about it, and went on as if everything was all right, up until he fell again. And again. And again. That was why he needed the wheelchair. Those falls were the start of his body shutting down over the past few years. Unfortunately, the worst part of getting older was this—growing closer to the end of one’s favorite novel.
Around five in the afternoon, Peter went to our grandparents’ and picked them up to bring them to the party. Nearly two hundred people showed up from town to celebrate the couple. That wasn’t shocking to me—my grandparents had a way of connecting with any and everyone.
Everyone wore vibrant colors to showcase the wild Alice in Wonderland theme, pastels and neon tones. I, myself, wore a light blue suit. And Willow?
Fucking wow.
“How do I look?” she asked, walking into the hallway from her bedroom. She wore a pastel pink silk dress tied around her neck, showcasing her fully exposed back. Her hair was straightened and pulled back into a high ponytail with a yellow ribbon tied around it. Her skin was smooth and her eyes were beautiful.
That was nothing new.
She always looked beautiful. Even when fishing on my boat in my oversized sweats.
My brain must’ve short-circuited because her brows knitted together as she said, “Is it not good?”
I shook my head and cleared my throat.
“No, I, I, y-you…” I took a deep inhalation. “Breathtaking,” I pushed out. “You look breathtaking, Weeping Willow.”
Her smile stretched out, growing fuller, and somehow, it made my own lips turn up. It was as if hers had magnetic powers to make my own mouth happy, too. That was a recent new experience for me. It had been a long time since another’s smile could make me grin.
“You look quite nice yourself, Mr. Grump.” She walked toward me. Each step she took confused my heart. “I have a little something for you.”
She opened her hand to showcase two forest-green cuff links. “I had them made for you.” I studied them. One read ‘Mad’ and the other read ‘Hatter.’ She gestured for me to hold my arms out. I did as she requested. As she began to attach my cuff links, she asked, “Does it happen when you’re nervous? The stuttering?”
“Yes,” I replied. “That, or uncomfortable, or angry.”
“Are you angry right now?”
“No.”
“Are you uncomfortable right now?”
“No.”
She tilted her head up, and that small smirk sat firmly against her full, glossy lips. “So do I make you nervous?”
I paused.
She did.
She smiled bigger.
She knew.
She finished attaching the cuff links, then smoothed her hands over my suit. “Dapper, Mr. Grump. Very, very dapper.”
I nodded once. “Beautiful, Weeping Willow. Very, very beautiful.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she blinked those long, stunning lashes a few times. “Ever since we became friends, you’ve knocked it out of the ballpark with your niceness.”