Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
But damn, openness looks good on her. Happiness, joy, contentment with Clay—it all looks good on her. I’m ninety-nine percent happy for her and one percent jealous. It’s a future for which I’m not sure I’m destined—a future I never really considered wanting—and yet, Josie makes it look almost good. Tolerable, at worst. And truth be told, if my life in New York had been great, I wouldn’t have ended up here.
I take a bite of my muffin to settle my stomach and take another sip of my coffee as I pretend to flip through a free Red Bridge Tourist magazine I grabbed from the counter to keep myself looking busy. Tad’s to-go cup sits waiting next to mine, a stopper to prevent spills in the hole in the lid, and his name scrawled in Josie’s handwriting on the side to keep me from mixing them up.
I stare at his untouched coffee for a long time.
Telling him he’s going to be a dad feels like standing on a cliff and waiting to see if the ground gives way. But I need to do it. I want to do it. The sooner I put it out there in the open, the sooner I can start to deal with it myself.
Josie’s coffee is merely a tool for consolation and coming in peace.
Okay, Breezy, time to face the music.
Just as I’m gathering my things, the bell over the door dings, and Logan walks in, his hair combed and a nice shirt belying the casual man I know him to be. He’s a jeans and T-shirts guy—so much so, he’s worn them on the red carpet before—and seeing him all put together is an unexpected surprise.
An unwelcome surprise, but a surprise, nonetheless. The last person I plan on dealing with today is Logan. I’ve got too much on my plate as it is—you know, in breaking the bun-in-the-oven news to Farm Daddy.
My brother sidles up to the counter without noticing me, nervously fidgeting as he looks over the menu. I listen a little—I can’t help myself—as he clears his throat before asking Josie a question.
“Hey, uh…you wouldn’t happen to know Ben and Norah’s regular order, would you?”
Josie quirks a skeptical brow. “And why would you want to know that?”
“I…I thought it might be a nice, friendly gesture. A…you know, peace offering of sorts if I showed up at their house with some coffee.”
I know for a fact that Logan knows that Josie is Norah’s sister, but I don’t think the two of them have ever had an actual face-to-face conversation. Josie definitely knows about yesterday’s unexpected visit and subsequent tussle, but at his explanation, her icy exterior melts just a little before she glances at me, which makes Logan notice me for the first time too.
“Oh hey, Breeze,” he greets affectionately. “How’re you feeling today?”
I smile. His eyes are both rimmed with mauvy-purple bruising that yellows slightly right at the edge. “Much better today. Thanks. How’s your face?”
He shrugs. “Eh. I’m sure I’ve deserved worse over the years. I’ll tell you what, though. That farmer can punch.”
I snort, and it forms a harmony with the sound of the bell over the door ringing with a new customer’s entrance.
Norah is instantly recognizable, a pink and purple and orange scarf wrapped generously around her neck and a sweet pair of pink heart sunglasses on her nose. Bennett is right behind her with a pigtail-sporting Autumn in his arms, and she bounces on his hip with unconcealed excitement to get down as soon as she sees Josie behind the counter.
“JoJo!” my cute niece squeals in excitement as she toddles toward her other aunt.
Logan turns his body away from me toward them, and as soon as Autumn spots him, she stops to point her little index finger at him. “Bam Bam!”
I kind of want to laugh over how damn much her little toddler brain can remember, but when Ben makes eye contact with Logan, we’re back in the middle of a battlefield. Metaphorical bombs in the form of gritted teeth and sharp exhales explode in the room, and I heave the beleaguered sigh of a woman who’s been dealing with this for literal decades.
And now, I’m pregnant—and let me tell you, the hormones aren’t doing anything for the patience portion of my disposition.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Bennett demands immediately, no subtle entry to the aggression at all, and Norah doesn’t hesitate to grab Autumn and pull her into her arms.
No doubt, she’s still on edge from the last time Logan and Bennett were in the same room together. Hell, I am too. Every nerve in my body is clenched tight, and I’m still sitting at the bistro table instead of making my exit.
Logan holds up both hands innocently, and for the first time in a long time, I feel bad for our youngest brother. He’s done plenty of shit to deserve his spot in the doghouse over the years, but at this point, all the anger is getting a little clichéd.