Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“It’s lovely to meet you," Maggie says, setting down the bags on the counter and approaching with outstretched hands. When she takes mine, her grip is firm and warm.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, my voice embarrassingly squeaky.
Thomas nods at me, his weathered face creasing with a slight smile. “Morning,” he says simply, setting down the coffee.
Ryan tugs at Ronan’s pants. “Daddy, is she your friend? Can she see my toys?”
Ronan ruffles his son’s hair, and the tenderness in the gesture catches me off guard. “Her name is Rayne, and yes, she’s my friend. And I’m sure she’d love to see your toys. After breakfast.”
Maggie’s already unpacking the bags, revealing stacks of pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns. The smell hits me, and my stomach growls loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“Perfect timing,” Maggie laughs. “Let’s get this food on plates before it gets cold. Ryan insisted on your favorite diner, Ronan.”
“Best pancakes in the state,” Ryan tells me solemnly, as if sharing a profound secret. He inches closer to me. “Do you like pancakes? Which ones? Blueberry, strawberry, with peanut butter and whipped cream?”
“I love pancakes,” I say. “I’m not a fan of whipped cream, though. Maybe with fresh fruits.”
“With syrup or without?” His eyes narrow, like this is a test.
“With. Lots of it.”
He grins, displaying a missing front tooth. “Me too! Daddy says I use too much, but Nana says there’s no such thing.”
“Your Nana sounds very wise.”
“She is! She knows everything.” He leans even closer. “Even more than Daddy.”
“I heard that,” Ronan says dryly, but there’s amusement in his eyes.
Before I know what’s happening, Maggie herds us all to the dining table. I try to hang back, feeling like an intruder on this family moment, but she’s having none of it.
“Sit, sit,” she insists, practically pushing me into a chair. “Any friend of Ronan’s is family at our table.”
If only she knew. I’m not a friend. I’m a charity case he bought at an auction.
Ryan scrambles into the chair right beside me, placing his toys carefully beside his plate. “This is Godzilla,” he explains, pointing to the largest monster. “And this is Rodan, and this is Mechagodzilla. He’s a robot.”
“They’re very cool,” I say, genuinely impressed by his enthusiasm.
“Do you like monsters?” he asks, eyes wide and hopeful.
I consider this seriously. “Kind of. I think they’re misunderstood. Everyone thinks they’re scary, but maybe they’re just different.”
Ryan’s mouth drops open. “That’s what I always say! You all heard it, right? Daddy, she gets it!”
Across the table, Ronan watches us with an expression I can’t quite read. He’s quiet, passing plates and pouring juice, but his eyes rarely leave my face. Every time our gazes connect, heat floods my cheeks as I remember his hands on my skin, his mouth on my—
“Syrup?” Thomas asks, breaking my inappropriate train of thought. He holds out the bottle, his expression neutral but somehow knowing.
“Thank you,” I say, accepting it with shaking hands.
“What books do you like?” Ryan asks, mouth already full of pancake. “I like dinosaur books and monster books and space books.”
“Ryan, chew and swallow before you talk,” Ronan says.
I smile at the boy. “I like all kinds of books. Stories about adventures and magic and brave people.”
“Do you read bedtime stories?” He stabs another piece of pancake. “Daddy reads the best bedtime stories. He does all the voices.”
I nearly choke on my coffee, trying not to picture Ronan, intimidating billionaire, doing silly voices for children’s books. It’s an oddly endearing thought, and it tugs at something inside me. Something I’d rather not unspool right now.
“I bet he's very good at that,” I say, and when I glance up, Ronan’s watching me with heat in his eyes.
“What’s your favorite food?” Ryan continues, seemingly determined to know everything about me. “Mine’s pizza and ice cream and pancakes and dino chicken nuggets and—”
I chuckle. “Sounds like you have lots of favorites.”
He nods vigorously. “What’s yours?”
“Hmm. My mom makes this amazing pasta with garlic bread. I think that’s my favorite.”
“I love pasta! Daddy, can we have pasta tonight? Can Rayne’s mom come make it?”
My smile falters. “My mom’s not feeling well these days. That’s why I’m ... visiting your dad." Not technically a lie.
Ryan’s face falls. "Is she sick? My friend Ethan’s grandma got sick and had to go to the hospital."
“Something like that,” I say softly, guilt already eating at me. Mom’s at the hospital, and here I am, enjoying breakfast as though I have no care in the world. As though everything’s normal. As though I deserve this.
“I hope she gets better,” he says with such sincerity that my heart twists.
“Thank you, Ryan. That’s very kind.”
“Are you staying forever?” he asks, leaning against my arm as he reaches for his juice.
The table goes quiet. I feel everyone’s eyes on me.
“No, just for the weekend,” I answer carefully.