Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Cal squealed. “I’ve always wanted a doctor in the family! I have so many shady spots on my body. And I could really use a monthly boob check for lumps.”
“I check your boobs for lumps twice a day,” Row protested.
“Um, no, honey. If you did, you wouldn’t be concentrating solely on the nipples.”
“Way too much info.” I cringed. “Besides, I haven’t been accepted for anything yet.”
“You will be,” Cal said confidently. “You’re the smartest person I know.”
“Da fuck, Dot?” Row protested.
“You’re the hottest, sweetie.”
“So…” I stood up and padded out to the hallway, dropping my voice so as not to wake my daughter. “Are you guys…not mad anymore? Because I didn’t really give you much of an explanation, just told you to screw off.”
“You’re off the hook in my eyes,” Cal confirmed. “Of course, I owe you from that time I banged your brother behind your back when we were teenagers.”
“Too true. You did that too, Row.”
“I’m aware. I was there,” he allowed grumpily.
I entered Grav’s room. Pressed a hand to her forehead while she slept. It was cool and dry. Thank you, Jesus.
“As I said, you’re off the hook, but Rhyland isn’t,” Row lamented. “He broke the code and deserves a good beating.”
I sighed. “Can you please refrain from ruining his face? He’s too pretty.”
“Clearly. That’s what got us into this whole mess.”
No. What got me into this mess was the fact that he had an amazing personality on top of being handsome.
“Any other requests?” Row asked.
“Yeah.” I toyed with a lock of my hair, putting it between my lips and chewing. “Protect the crown jewels, Row. I really like them.”
“Too late. I’m going to dethrone the motherfucker.”
Rhyland: We need to talk.
Dylan: Please don’t tell me you’re pregnant. I’m really not ready for this kind of responsibility right now. I can’t even commit to a gel manicure.
Rhyland: Okay, rude. For one thing, I don’t chip after, like, five seconds.
Dylan: Do I want to know how you got all this manicure knowledge?
Rhyland: I made a career pretending to be an attentive boyfriend. I know all about women’s woes.
Dylan: I’m guessing it’s about our leaked sex tape.
Rhyland: There’s a video too?!
Dylan: A reel. But Row tells me Tucker only shared it with friends and family.
Rhyland: He has neither.
Rhyland: Are you downstairs?
Dylan: Getting ready 2 leave. Taking Grav to the park. Fever’s down. She’s feeling better.
Rhyland: I’ll join you.
Dylan:
Rhyland: Need me to bring anything?
Dylan: Nope. My camel toe is huge.
Rhyland: False. Your pussy lips are as perfect as the ones upstairs.
Dylan: CAMO TOTE!!!
Rhyland: Sure, Jan.
Dylan: I’m never using voice to text again.
Rhyland: Why? Your oral skills are fantastic.
Dylan: You’re not humping.
Rhyland: I’ve a feeling I will be tonight…
Dylan: HELPING!!!
Rhyland: You know, predictive text says a lot about the words we use on an everyday basis.
Dylan: I hate you.
Rhyland: Was that autocorrect?
Dylan: No. That was a fart.
Rhyland: Bless you, Cosmos. I’m glad we’ve reached that level of intimacy.
Dylan: FACT.
Rhyland:
RHYLAND
Dylan was getting her cardio when I got to the park, in the form of chasing after her daughter from the swings to the slides and roaring at her not to do things Grav then proceeded to do with an evil giggle. I smirked to myself as I swaggered toward them. They were chaotic and messy and a whole fucking lot but also kind of adorable.
Fluffy and Mittens were wobbling at my side on their leashes. I figured I could use the chance to take them out on a walk. I was still in the process of finding them a home. Two people had emailed me back after I sent a mass email with pictures of them attached, saying they were interested in adopting them, but I was waiting to see if there were any better candidates before I replied.
“Don’t run into the street!” Dylan was screaming now, so of course, Gravity dashed straight into the fucking traffic. I blocked her way to the busy road, tucking the leashes of the dogs into my pocket and football-tackling the kid. She giggled and wriggled her feet in the air.
“Uncle Rhyrand! What are you doing?”
“Bribing a three-year-old, apparently,” I muttered.
“What?” She continued squirming as I led her back to the depths of the park and away from the street.
“How about we make a deal, little stinker? If you play nicely and refrain from trying to kill yourself for the next twenty minutes, I’m going to buy you a whole-ass Barbie house. How ’bout that?”
We were nearing Dylan, who was standing with her arms crossed and a face that said she knew I was using language I shouldn’t with her daughter.
“I don’t like Barbies anymore.” Gravity blew a raspberry.
“What do you like, then?”
“Dinosaurs.”
I forgot she was her mother’s daughter.
“Right, well, I can’t buy you one of those, as they’ve been out of stock for, er, let’s see…sixty-six million years. But I can buy you a big dinosaur stuffie.”