Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“You didn’t need a marriage certificate for that,” I remind him.
“I know, but damn, Sloane Sinclair has a nice fucking ring to it.”
“I’ll give you that.” I nod.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks, his brow furrowed in concern.
“Just getting some air. Everyone was all loved up, and I thought it was a good time.” I shrug. It’s not a complete lie. It’s not just that I thought it was a good time to escape. I needed the reprieve from the heaviness of being alone.
“Well, you’d better come back inside. Landry and Cam are about to revolt if we don’t cut the cake.” He chuckles.
“Oh, I know. Your son gave me that cute look of his to convince me to get him some earlier. Rowan took over, and I saw her with Landry, which was Cam’s idea.” I go on to tell him the details, and he grins.
“That’s my boy.” He stands from his rocker. “Come on.” He nods his head toward the house, so I stand and follow him back inside.
I know he wants to say more. He knows it was more than fresh air I was seeking. That it was a reprieve from being the odd man out, but he doesn’t mention it, and for that, I’m grateful.
Landry hands Camden to Sloane, and he leans over while in her arms, reaching for the cake. He manages to swipe his finger through the icing. He grins victoriously as he shoves his finger into his mouth, licking it clean.
Everyone laughs as Baker and Sloane make the first cut, while Camden, who’s in Sloane’s arms, is still reaching for the cake. Baker gathers two small pieces and feeds one to his wife and then offers the other to Camden, who takes it eagerly. Baker leans down to kiss Sloane, while Camden takes the rest of his cake from his dad’s hand and shoves the remainder of the small piece into his mouth.
We spend the next few hours laughing, talking, and dancing. I dance with Camden and Coral and then snuggle up with Alex while his parents take the dance floor for a spin without him. It’s a good day, and while there is a heaviness that sits on my chest, there’s also a lightness that shines.
These are my people, and getting to celebrate them makes my world a little brighter. Even as the odd man out, I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.
Chapter Six
Eden
* * *
Foster is paying me—well, the agency—for nothing. I come to his place three times a week, but he’s neat and cleans up after himself. I don’t need three eight-hour days here. I guess maybe he’s messier when the season is in full swing? I’m not sure, but I find myself with extra time on my hands.
That’s why I’m in his kitchen making him dinner. He tells me I don’t have to, but the man has been making me breakfast three times a week since my first full week here. It’s the least that I can do. He’s at the gym with the guys—his words, not mine—and well, I assume a workout makes you hungry. I wouldn’t know. I can’t think of a single time I’ve stepped into a gym to work out.
I’m lucky that I’ve got a good metabolism. I’m sure one day that won’t be the case, but I’m taking full advantage of it while I can.
I’m pulling the meatloaf out of the oven, just as the door from the garage opens. I hear his heavy footfalls as he makes his way to the kitchen.
“Wow, what’s all this?” Foster asks.
I place the meatloaf on the stove and turn to face him. He’s wearing sweats and a hoodie, his hair is mussed, and his lips are tilted into a smile for me.
“I made dinner,” I tell him. “I thought you might be hungry.” I glance over at the clock on the wall. “I know four might be a little early to eat, but everything can be heated up later. I don’t know if you’re hungry after a workout, but I assumed that you would be, so yeah.” I sigh, my shoulders dropping. I’m rambling, and it’s embarrassing.
“Four is not too early, and I’m starving. Have a seat, and I’ll make us a plate,” he says, stepping toward the cabinet.
“Oh, I made this for you.”
“And this is a lot of food for one person. You’re staying to eat with me.” He gives me a look that tells me not to argue with him, so I don’t.
“I guess that means I’ll at least be here to clean up after,” I tell him. It’s not a hardship to stay. Spending time with this man, being in his orbit in any capacity, has quickly become the best part of my days.
“No, ma’am. You cooked. I’ll clean up. Now, sit.” He nods toward the stools at the massive island in his kitchen, and I do as I’m told, perching my ass onto one of them.