Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
But we all watch as she rummages around for a moment before whipping out a pen and a notebook. She flips through a few pages until she finds a blank one, then rips it out and passes it to me.
"What am I doing with this?"
"Folding destiny, Emelia."
I gape at her. "I don't even know what that means."
"You're making a cootie catcher." She beams at me. "You know, like when we were kids, trying to decide our futures? I expect to see client names! Here—" she tears out another piece, handing it to Seraphina. "Think you can handle MASH?"
"I'm not MASH'ing my way to a hot man, Ava."
"You are." Ava bats her lashes. "And Stone Warden better be on there."
"Jesus Christ," Nova grumbles, inching away from Ava as if she might bite. "Don't even think about handing me a piece of paper."
"I'm not," Ava smirks at her. "You're in charge of Fuck-Marry-Kill. And Hux is one of your choices."
Nova groans loudly at the mention of her brother's best friend, Huxley Saint, who plays professional baseball. She swears she hates the man. It's a lie. We all know it, even if she won't admit it.
"What about you?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at Ava. "You have to play too." There's no way she gets to torture us while she sits back and enjoys the show.
"I know!" Seraphina scrambles to her feet, stumbling across the room. She plucks a flower from the vase on my kitchen table and then turns with a flourish, presenting it to Ava. "Get to plucking, sister."
"What?" Ava stares at the Gerbera daisy in horror.
"He loves me, he loves me not—Dawson edition." Seraphina shakes the flower at her. "The petals don't lie."
"Except when they do," Ava mutters, reluctantly taking the flower.
"This is ridiculous," I groan. "We're too old for this."
"Who cares? Get to folding," Ava says with a bright laugh. "With any luck, we won't even remember it in the morning."
God, I hope she's right because I've already written a name on my paper. Royce, my new client.
Chapter One
Emelia
Come Monday morning, I'm not even hungover anymore, but I am not mentally prepared to face Royce Elliot, either. Thanks to Ava's unhinged party games on Saturday, I folded, MASH'ed, and fuck-marry-killed my way into a future with him at least six times.
Have I mentioned that I haven't even officially met the man? Yeah, awkward.
All I've got is a highlight reel and a cache full of photos I may or may not have ogled extensively. No, I did not spell Google incorrectly. I mean, I've been staring at the man's photos for a week.
I don't even date athletes!
"This is going to be a disaster," I groan to my reflection in my compact mirror. The woman staring back at me is the picture of professional poise—blonde hair in perfect waves, not a smudge of mascara in sight, lip-liner flawless. It's a lie. I'm an anxious, sweaty mess.
I haven't been this nervous since…actually, I don't think I've ever been this nervous, not even that time I threw up on a client. For the record, that was Nova's fault. I should have known the food at that sketchy carnival she dragged me to would try to murder me.
I snap the compact closed and pick up my phone to text my mom.
Me: I have a new client coming in this morning. What are you and Dad doing?
Mom: Trade you. I'm trying to convince your father that your sister is old enough to date.
Abigail is trying to date? Interesting.
Me: Um, no, thanks. I'll stick with my new client.
Mom: I knew you were going to say that.
I send back a shrugging emoji, grinning to myself. My parents are wild about one another and always have been, but my dad drives her nuts sometimes, especially when it comes to us. As far as he's concerned, we'll never be old enough to date.
He's wildly overprotective. I guess that's just what happens when you fall for someone who has been sick her whole life, like my mom. She was diagnosed with a form of leukemia when she was a kid. She's fallen out of remission more than a few times over the years. My dad lives in fear of losing her or one of us.
Mom: Who's the new client?
Me: Royce Elliot.
Mom: Oh, he's a great skater. Almost as good as your dad was.
I smile, not because she's biased, but because it's true. My dad was incredible on the ice. Royce isn't half bad, either. He's one of the biggest names in the league for a reason. He's unstoppable in front of a net.
Mom: Call me later, baby girl. I want to hear all about it. You're going to do great!
Me: I will. Thanks. I love you.
Mom: Love you too.
I power down the screen and slip my phone into my desk drawer, feeling slightly less anxious than I did before I texted her. She's magic like that. I barely have time to open Royce's file before Regina taps on my door.