Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
She was acting like I’d parked halfway down the street, not at the side of the house.
Gramps fought a smile. “I’ve got nowhere to be tomorrow, Birdie. Block me in for my sins.”
I sniffed, fighting against a laugh. “I will do. Nana, go inside. I’ll be there by the time the tea has brewed.”
She shuffled inside with a grumble about my grandfather’s ignorant lack of care for my journey up here. I caught a glimpse of his shoulders shaking as he disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving me alone on the driveway to bring my belongings in from the car.
With a shake of my head, I got back into my car, backed up to the front of the house, and climbed back out. Thankfully I’d left enough space to open my boot and pull out my stuff. I was exhausted from the long drive up here, so I just grabbed my smaller suitcase that was packed for overnight, my laptop bag, and rounded back to the front seats to grab my handbag from where it’d fallen into the footwell.
I locked it up and hauled my stuff into the hallway. Nothing had changed. The house was exactly how I remembered it, exactly how I loved it, and the smell of a beef joint roasting in the kitchen assaulted my senses.
Nobody cooked beef like my nana.
That. Was. Amazing.
Nana smiled at me, showing a bright pink smudge of lipstick on her front tooth. “I made your favourite.”
“You are my favourite,” I told her, wrapping her in a big hug. I positioned my mouth near her ear and whispered, “You have a little lippie on your tooth.”
She instantly released me and stormed into the living room. “Keith! Why didn’t you tell me I had lipstick on my tooth?”
Welp. There went my attempt at being discreet.
“I didn’t notice, dear!” His tone was rather meek and mild, and I dipped my head to hide my smile.
Oh, he noticed.
He just didn’t want to tell her.
My phone vibrated in my hoodie pocket. I set down my things and pulled it out to look at the new text that always gave the little zz-zz-zzzzzz buzz.
HAZEL: Christina just told she me thinks she saw your fancy pants car. Does that mean you’re home???
Jesus Christ.
My sister’s best friend needed a hobby.
And my car was not that fancy pants.
ME: I just walked through the door. Still had my suitcase in hand when you texted. Does Chrissy have a hobby?
HAZEL: No. Does this mean we can do breakfast tomorrow????
ME: Can I eat dinner first? Nana made roast beef.
HAZEL: She never makes me roast beef. Talk about the golden child.
“Nana! When was the last time you made Hazel your roast beef?” I called.
“Two weeks ago!” she said, strolling into the hall and right through to the kitchen, sans lipstick on her teeth. “If she’s telling you I never make it, don’t listen to her.”
“That’s what I thought. She’s being a brat again.”
“Don’t call your sister a brat,” Gramps said, sniffing in the doorway.
“Sorry,” I replied, hitting the message box. “I’m the big sister. It’s practically a requisite that I call her a brat.”
They both laughed. They knew it came from a place of love—excluding that time I was fifteen and she was thirteen and she stole all my make-up.
That was not from a place of love.
That was from a place of me being very pissed off because I’d been sweeping hair in the local hair salon for weeks to afford the more expensive makeup she’d stolen.
ME: Nana said she made it two weeks ago. Brat.
HAZEL: Shit.
HAZEL: Don’t call me a brat.
ME: Don’t act like one, then.
ME: And remember that nice discount your darling big sis is giving you for her wedding planning services.
HAZEL: I love you. Sooooooo much. The best big sister everrrrr.
Suck up.
ME: Brat.
HAZEL: Hey!
I laughed.
ME: I really did just get here. I need sleep. Can we meet for lunch instead?
HAZEL: Of course. Where?
ME: Here or your place.
HAZEL: I’ll come to you and bring some food. Julian promised to help Gramps finish hanging the rest of his lights.
ME: That’s why they weren’t turned on.
HAZEL: Yeah. Be glad they pay the electric bill on that place, that’s all I’m saying.
ME: Please bring champers and OJ for mimosas.
HAZEL: Done and done. Pls ask Nana to save me a bit of that beef.
ME: Not Julian?
HAZEL: It’s a dog-eat-dog world. What can I say?
“Well?” Nana asked, turning to me as I walked into the kitchen. “What did the lying brat say?”
Gramps shook his head.
I laughed. “She asked if you’d save her some beef for tomorrow. She’s bringing lunch.”
Gramps sniffed. “Is that simp of hers going to finish hanging my lights for me?”
Pausing, I tilted my head to the side. “Do you know what that word means?”
“Simp? No idea. I heard in the café from some of those teens that it’s a euphemism for a ‘little whipped bitch’ and thought it was appropriate. I’ve been waiting to use my newfound lingo.”