Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“I’d gladly have a birthday apple pie as opposed to a cake.”
“Out of this house, right now,” Cathy was saying to Sam said as I rounded the corner into the kitchen.
Morning sunlight was pouring through the windows, and Cathy was wielding a spatula like a weapon, glaring intensely at Sam. Logan, Laura, Jim, and my dad all watched, laughing from the sidelines.
Sam smiled wide, standing up and holding his hands in the air. “Guilty as charged. I hereby confess to the crime of preferring pie to cake. For my last words, I’d like to say that I’d never felt so betrayed by my family as I do on this morning.”
“I think I agree with Sam,” Logan said, piping up for the first time.
“Blasphemy!” Cathy called out. “Give that French toast back right now.”
Logan laughed as Cathy ambled back to the stove, flipping the slices of French toast that were there.
“Morning, sunshine,” Sam said, looking at me as he took his plate over to the sink.
The moment his eyes met mine, I felt exposed, even though I was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants.
I’d dreamed about the motherfucker last night. Multiple dreams, all full of stupid, senseless kisses like we’d shared in the pool.
I pushed the thoughts out of my mind, giving Sam a big smile as fake as the one he was giving me.
“Morning, schnookums,” I said, trading his stupid pet name for an even stupider one.
I saw his eyes flare, but he hid it pretty quickly. “What do you prefer, Fox?” he asked. “Cake or pie?”
I grunted. “Coffee?”
“Fresh batch of cold brew I made yesterday,” Cathy said, pulling a big pitcher of liquid gold from the fridge. “But before I give it to you, you’ve got to answer the question.”
I blinked heavily, still slightly hungover from the night before. “Well, while I do think a sour cherry pie is one of the best desserts on Earth,” I said quietly, “in general, I do prefer a nice dark chocolate cake with ganache. So, yes, cake.”
“Final answer?”
“Very final.”
“Congratulations, you’ve won your share of cold brew,” she said, putting the pitcher on the counter. I looked at it like it was a shining beacon from heaven.
“You are a saint, Cathy,” I told her. “Stepmom of the year award.”
“Get your ass in gear, kid,” my dad called out. “We’re set to take off in twenty minutes.”
“I need to make a phone call to my assistant,” I said, pouring myself cold brew in the tallest cup I could find. “But I’ll chug this coffee, shower, and I’ll be on the road right after you guys.”
“Your assistant,” Sam repeated, lifting his chin in a haughty gesture.
I lifted an eyebrow. “Yes.”
“Here’s your French toast, dear,” Cathy said to me, sliding the last piece onto a plate for me.
“Thank you.”
Truthfully, the French toast felt so special that “thank you” didn’t seem like enough. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a real breakfast. I usually had nothing but black coffee, or maybe a green smoothie if I was on one of my rare, short-lived health kicks.
Back in high school, I’d isolated myself so much, even when it came to Cathy’s warmth and kindness. Even back then, I knew she was a great stepmom, but my heart was still shattered into pieces from my mom’s passing when I was eleven.
It felt impossible to accept any sort of love in high school. I kept my head down, thinking only about my future. But now, being here with Cathy and seeing Dad so happy with her made my heart feel full.
“So did we decide on Highway Hugh’s for lunch?” Dad said.
“What’s Highway Hugh’s?” Laura asked.
“They have the best sausage and pepper sandwiches.”
“Well, Sam hates sausage,” I said, taking a bite of my French toast. “Which is ironic, because he loves—”
“Oh yeah?” Sam piped up. “You think I should love sausage just because I love cock?”
I stopped chewing, shaking my head as I realized Sam actually had gotten me to blush. Jim, Laura, and Logan all looked up at him with wide eyes while Cathy and my dad started their low cackling laughter.
“I was going to say it’s ironic, because you love hot dogs,” I continued. “But sure. What you said, too.”
“I do hate sausage, though,” Sam said. “I’m surprised you remember.”
There was a gleam in his eye. I could tell that he appreciated that I’d known a random fact about him, though he would never fully admit it.
Sam liked being seen. And he definitely liked attention.
“So, we’ll go for hot dogs instead,” my dad said. “Easy peasy.”
“All right, let’s go over the list one more time, hun,” Cathy said to Dad as she finished washing up the frying pan. “We’re going to be gone for two weeks, I want to make sure we’ve got what we need.”
Everyone dispersed, getting ready to take off. I quickly finished the French toast and stepped into the back yard, pulling out my phone to call Maxine.