Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
“Hey,” Clark says, dropping to the couch beside me.
“Done with boys’ talk?” I ask with a hint of a smirk.
“Stop it.” He nudges me in the arm. “Why don’t you stop being so stubborn and let me talk to him?”
“Let you try to convince our father that I’m capable of running the family financial business with you?” Clark pouts, and I roll my eyes. “It’s fine.” That’s a lie. “I’m happy at LB&B.” Truth. “And I couldn’t stand Dad breathing down my neck over every decision I made. And, with respect, have you as my boss?”
“I’m a good boss.”
“Maybe, but you shouldn’t be my boss.” Because I’m the eldest child. And yet because I’m a girl and our father’s a dinosaur, I’ve been sidestepped for my younger brother. I don’t hold it against Clark. He’s a good brother.
“So how’s business?” he asks.
“Good. Don’t let Dad hear you asking me that.” I reach over and kiss his cheek. “I better go help Mum in the kitchen before the world ends and men replace women at the stove.”
“Ha ha,” he drones, kicking me up the backside as I walk away. I don’t make it to the kitchen, the front door stopping me.
“Are we expecting someone else?” I call, frowning as I divert.
“What, darling?” Dad calls.
“Who’s at the door?” I swing it open and come face-to-face with my ex. “Fuck,” I breathe. “Nick, what are you doing here?”
He holds up a small, gift-wrapped box, smiling awkwardly. “Happy birthday,” he says, as if that explains his visit. I suppose it should, but it doesn’t. I’ve not been answering his calls, his messages. Not out of spite or malice, but because I don’t know what to say to him. Like now, as I keep him on the doorstep of my parents’ house. He looks well, his usual clean-cut, suited self, his hair, as always, precisely styled, his face smooth. He’s a handsome guy, in an Oxford prep kinda way.
“Who is it, darling?” Dad asks from behind me, muscling his way between me and the door. “Nick,” he chimes, happy. Of course he’s happy. “What a lovely surprise!”
Nick lets loose a small frown as he offers a hand, and I know, I just fucking know, this is my father’s doing. “Hi, Dennis,” he murmurs.
“Come in, come in. Jenn, you’ll never guess who’s stopped by.” Dad hauls my ex into the house and shuts the door.
“Bet she can,” I grumble, scowling at Dad’s back.
“I thought you knew,” Nick says quietly, at the mercy of my father’s over-the-top hospitality.
I breathe out and shake my head, waving a flippant hand. It’s not Nick’s fault my father’s a deviant dinosaur.
“Mum, Dad, Clark, Rachel!” Dad sings. “Guess who’s here?”
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” I say to Clark when he comes to see what all the fuss is about.
“Oh,” he whispers, holding a hand up in an embarrassed hello to Nick. “Well, this is awkward.”
“Why can’t he let me live my own life?” I march into the kitchen while Dad directs Nick into the lounge to say hello to Grandpa and Grandma. “Mum,” I cry on a hiss, pointing in the general direction of the lounge. “He’s interfering again.”
“Oh, darling, he just wants what’s best for you.”
“He has no idea what’s best for me.” I drop my head back and look at the ceiling as Clark passes and gives my shoulder a sympathetic, pointless rub.
“Now come on,” Mum says, falling into peacekeeping mode. “You should be all Zen after your day at the spa.”
“I was very Zen until Dad invited my ex to dinner.” The conniving arse. “Why can’t he keep his nose out?”
“He needs something to do since he retired,” Clark quips. I glare at him, and he’s quick to apologise.
“Why do we all talk about Dad’s retirement when he’s not actually retired?” He’s in the office now as much as he was when he wasn’t retired.
Taking his glass of water, Clark retreats to the lounge.
“Come.” Mum grabs the cutlery she reserves for special dinners. “Help me set the table.”
Irritated, I snatch one of her endless aprons down off the hook and get it on, grabbing the place mats while Rachel gets the fancy crockery. All the women doing women things. I go to the dining room off the lounge and start laying the table, one ear on Rachel and Mum chatting about the upcoming wedding, my other on the men in the lounge talking about the stock market. It’s going to be a long evening.
And it is. Long and painful. I don’t say much, as everyone happily ignores the fact that this is so very wrong, except Grandma, who definitely keeps checking on me, smiling softly. Nick apologises every chance he gets, and I tell him not to worry. I give all my attention to Grandma, who wants to hear about my day at the spa.