Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Of course not,” I told him.
He took a breath. “I was terrified for my girl.”
“I, on the other hand, was not.”
“Owen Moss was kidnapped.”
“Under completely different circumstances.”
He grunted. “Yeah, well, I know that now, don’t I?”
I sighed deeply. “Do you know the main reason I wasn’t worried?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he muttered, walking away to look in the refrigerator.
“Tell me why?”
“There better be more than a salad in here,” he warned me.
“Tell me why I wouldn’t ever worry? I want to hear you say it.”
“Because George will be with her,” he snapped at me.
I lifted my eyebrows.
“Shit.”
I crossed my arms.
“I’m sorry,” he said belligerently. “I was worried, and I second-guessed Aaron and apparently Miguel—that was fun, by the way—and then goddamn Duncan had to call and tell me how it was a whole clusterfuck over there in Bangkok that had nothing to do with Aaron, and he knew that with absolute certainty because his buddy Darius Hawthorne called him,” he went on, rambling. “Do you have any idea who Darius Hawthorne is? I mean––”
“Just tell me everything’s fine and we’ll be done.”
He huffed out a frustrated breath. “Everything’s fine.”
“Good. I ordered pizza, and I’m having it delivered because I had a weird day and fighting traffic at seven at night is not my idea of a good time.”
“Did I get meat lovers?”
“Yes, you did.”
He was suddenly smiling at me.
“Are you ready for all the news now?”
“Yes, please,” he said, leaning against the counter.
“Okay. So, the roofers are coming Tuesday morning because this week was bad for them, as they had a few emergencies.”
“As long as it’s done before it snows, I’m fine. They’re the ones that should have been here when they said they would, back when it was cooler.”
I couldn’t argue that with him. It was already hot. “The HOA said that all Pride flags and decorations should be up, for whoever wants to participate, first thing on the morning of June first to show our support and solidarity with the LGBTQIA+ community.”
“I love how they need to check those just like they do the Christmas stuff to make sure it all falls within their guidelines.”
“Which they never define because some people go nuts at Pride and Christmas, but others, like that one house on Euclid, pick Easter and Halloween to go bananas.”
“That Easter display, with all the vintage bunny costumes that I can only assume were worn at some mall and traumatized helpless children—that shit was disturbing.”
It had been. The costumes were stuffed and put up all over the yard, and some of them—most of them—looked like they were rotting. It was horrifying. The Halloween displays were less scary than that. “Hannah and her friends are coming to put up everything for Pride on the thirty-first, and our daughter made beautiful Progress Pride flags for both sides of the driveway.”
“That sounds like zero work for me, so bonus,” Sam said with a smile as Dobby began barking his head off at the door. “You really wanted those panels, huh?”
“I refuse to discuss this with you again.”
He was chuckling as he went to the door to get the pizza.
Once the delivery girl petted Dobby and Sam grilled her on having mace in her car, which she did not, he had her stand there and wait while he got her one from the supply he had in the kitchen under the sink.
“Sorry,” I called over to her.
“No, its fine,” she told me. “My dad is getting me one today, but your husband is right, that doesn’t do me any good right now. And this way I can tell my dad to never mind.”
I had heard her tell Sam that it was okay, he didn’t have to give her one, but since she clearly had a protective father as well, she knew better than to argue. She took the scary tactical-looking can of mace, and a tip, and left. I knew Sam gave them out to others I hadn’t seen, but of those I had, there were three young men and two young women. Sam always shared his pronouns with anyone he perceived as being the same age or younger than his kids, and then asked theirs. Years ago, he had not been that way, but between me, Hannah, and the boys all correcting him, it had stuck. Now it was second nature, and because he felt everyone should have protection, he’d gone immediately and gotten her one of his bottles, the kind that came out in a powerful stream. He liked that you could defend yourself from a distance. It was what he put in my car.
“That was very nice of you,” I told him, leaning up to kiss his cheek.
“I’m nice, just apparently a shitty communicator.”
I said nothing, only smiled.
During dinner, Sam got a call from Ian, which he took on speaker.