Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Probably weird to be thankful your boyfriend is possibly choking and needs your focus.
But whatevs.
I am.
I haven’t looked that man in the eyes in I don’t know how long.
I damn sure didn’t plan on having to do it tonight of all nights.
The night that’s meant to be honoring and praising me for the fantastic work I’ve done on the salvage, for accomplishing so many firsts for the city as a woman and as a black woman on top of that.
Tonight was supposed to be about getting all the attention Ravencroft assigned me in public, then all the worship I could handle in private.
Seeing him was nowhere on the docket.
Trust me.
I checked.
They cordially shake yet my father investigates, “We?” His dark eyebrows lift in question. “Who exactly is we, Garcia?”
“Either of us,” I state, post ensuring Zero is actually alright.
Shock doesn’t hesitate to appear in his expression. “You’re…an us?”
“We are,” he states before I can.
“We’re actually all an us,” Zero announces and extends an eager palm. “Zero, Sir.”
“Don’t call him sir,” is swiftly sneered.
“Mitch,” Dad politely states during their shaking.
“Nice to meet you!”
“And you, young man.” Once they’re done, his stare finds mine. “And nice to see you, Salacia. In person.”
My lack of retorting encourages both men to loving curl themselves around me in a protective fashion.
Fuckme.
I love when they close ranks like this.
They become like pacific octopus.
All tight.
All tenacles.
I’d totally be turned the fuck on if it wasn’t my father we were dealing with.
“I’ve been seeing your name attached to the find and would’ve extended my congratulations via card or letter except you never have a steady address. I would’ve done it by phone call or texts except I didn’t have your number. And email would be a possibility, but I don’t have that either.”
Easier to keep us at opposites ends of the ocean when none of that info is available.
“However, had I known you were…involved with…an…associate of mine,” he cuts Garcia a minor glance, “I would have simply asked him to convey the message.”
Garcia gives his collar a slightly awkward tug.
“Congratulations on the historical find,” Dad continues without waiting for additional commentary. “You deserve the accolades. You have more than earned them. And if it’s possible…in the future…I would love to have dinner with you and hear more about them or about…anything else you would like to share.”
My lips momentarily press together in new realms of disbelief.
Huh.
This is…unexpected.
Even more unexpected than actually finding a treasure historians were pretty sure didn’t actually exist.
Too bad I knew what to do with that.
I’m not so sure what to do with this.
No, we haven’t had the best relationship – or really any real relationship – since Mom died, but maybe we could?
Maybe we should try?
I mean…I let myself become anchored to Garcia and Zero.
Maybe I could let myself forgive the old man too?
“I’ll have Garcia get in touch,” leaves my lips before I can overthink anything else.
“Soon,” my oldest boyfriend adds to ensure this doesn’t become the brush off it could.
“End of the next business week,” Zero cheekily adds to the conversation, anxious to be involved.
“I look forward to it,” Dad politely states and nods his dismissal.
It takes a little longer than expected for us to be huddled in the tent alone; however, once we are, Garcia asks, “You sure you’re ready to take that step?”
“No.” Leaning into their joint hold is effortless. “But I wasn’t ready to fall for the two of you and look at me now…”
Zero leans over to press his lips gently to my cheek. “You look perfect, baby.”
“And you’ll look even more perfect riding our cocks…” Garcia wolfishly declares, open palm sliding down to cup my ass. “Soon.”
“Definitely before the end of the next business day,” cheekily jokes our boyfriend.
“You’re a hot mess, Nemo,” I playfully scold and swipe away the lost cocktail sauce. “But clearly, so am I.”
“The hottest of messes,” Garcia hungrily announces. “And we love you for it.”
Epilogue (3)
The Week Before Christmas…
Zero
I hate Zoos.
Alright.
Not all zoos, but most.
They’re not my thing.
Protected parks that get branded zoos?
My thing.
Natural habitats like this where there are acres and acres of land for the animals to live wildly yet safely while also allowing scientists to study molecular genetics, reproductive physiology and patterns, nutrition, reintegration, plant micro propagation, and conservation medicine as well as non-invasive healing techniques for injured creatures?
So. My. Thing.
Metal bars, barely any room to move, no purpose other than to give kids a place to visit during school field trips or shitty summer vacay?
No.
Fuck. No.
I’m actually – anonymously – on some random zoo terrorist watchlist last I checked, although I prefer to think of myself as a animal rights activist.
Here’s the tea.
Zoos that poorly take care of animals deserve to shut down and have those animals moved to better institutes.
Salay fights for the ocean.
I fight for nature.
You know.