Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“Not on a government level.” Colt turned down the heat on the stove and moved to the counter across from Lucas and me.
“My dad’s company is private.”
“Sure, that’s who the government employs.” Colt smirked. “It’s only in the private sector that secrets can be kept.”
That was true, I supposed.
“Okay, so that’s Rosa.” Lucas stroked his thumb over my knuckles as he held my hand. “Will we be stepping on any toes where Vincent is concerned?”
“I don’t see how we won’t,” Colt stated, a crease forming in his forehead. “I’m just thinking out loud here, but Kit, your ultimate goals are to one, fend for yourself better, and two, leave control and guidance to Luke and me.” He straightened and patted his— “It’s in my jeans,” he said to himself. “Never mind. Luke and I have already bought you a SmarTrip card. We thought we’d try it out together this weekend.”
Oh wow. Me, taking the Metro? Butterflies filled my stomach. I’d be just like any other person.
“I want to do that,” I said with a bashful grin. “It’s weird I’m excited about it, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely,” Colt said. “The Metro sucks. There’s never any place to sit, and if there is, you gotta give it up to a pregnant lady.”
Lucas chuckled. “It’s not weird at all, dear.” He raised a brow at Colt next. “Your mother would tan your hide for that comment too.”
“I know, I already feel bad.” Colt winced and rubbed his chest. “Either way, you see where you’re headed, baby. I don’t know where that leaves Vincent.” He wasn’t the only one who didn’t know. I frowned. “Does he do anything other than drive you around?”
I half shrugged, then nodded. “He does stuff. He has a sense for knowing when I’m down. Sometimes, he’ll show up out of the blue and pretend his TV is broken.” I didn’t think a TV could break twenty times a year. “He’s sort of the handyman, and he makes sure the gardening service comes to take care of the backyard. And the pool cleaning service, etcetera, etcetera.”
Vincent also had job security with us, but whereas Rosa’s security was in the family, Vincent had a place in the company. Richard would help Vincent find something more fitting to his capabilities.
We weren’t there, though, were we? Colt and Lucas were only here temporarily. But…as Colt had said, I had my goals. Sooner rather than later, I didn’t want to rely on Vincent. Because once I was able to handle those things on my own, having Vincent here would just be a luxury. A comfort. A crutch.
“I’ll talk to him,” I said.
For some reason, I felt uneasy about it, even though I knew it was time.
* * *
ur bored a lot lately. i dig it.
I snorted at Abel’s text and responded.
Lately? I’ve lived in boredom.
He didn’t agree, evidently.
not like this. u would fill your hours with stuff. your outings and hobbies, but since meeting daddy pilot and daddy suit, none of that is enough anymore.
He had a point, I had to admit. It was why I found myself wandering my house aimlessly after Colt and Lucas had left for work. Rosa was downstairs preparing some snacks to put in the freezer, and Vincent wasn’t due for another hour or so. I had an appointment with Linda, Richard’s wife, at noon.
Abel sent another text.
almost done @ gym. calling u in 2 mins
Cool. I kept my phone in my hand and wandered down to the living room where the empty spot above the couch caught my eye. The faint outline of our family portrait didn’t stab me with as much pain as it just…bugged me.
This was my home, yet it was put together piece by piece by my parents. The house had turned into a museum. A shrine, almost. And I was tired. I was frustrated and tired and restless.
Colt had called my living room New England. Everything was white, so white, and had dark blue accents.
What if I wanted gray? Or green? Or fucking neon pink?
I didn’t want neon pink.
My phone rang, and Abel’s goofy smirk lit up my screen.
“Hey, hot stuff,” I said, staring at that damn wall.
“Hey, yourself,” he chuckled. “Have I mentioned I like the new you?”
He had. When we talked the other day, he’d said I was more “chill.”
What he didn’t know was that it was the old me.
I went with it, though. “The new me is thinking I might want to repaint my living room,” I said.
In fact, what kept me from redoing everything? I’d watched enough home-makeover shows to know it didn’t have to take that long, nor did it have to be very complicated. It wasn’t like I needed to renovate. Kitchen, bathrooms, and laundry stuff was all state-of-the-art. But walls? New furniture? Freaking knickknacks? I could do that, couldn’t I? Not that I would hold the paintbrush personally, or assemble the furni— Actually, why not? There were instructions, right?