Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
The words roll off my tongue, but I have no idea if they make sense. It’s a piecemeal of comments I recall hearing, and I’m surprised I remember any of this.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Drake asks, laughing. “How do you know who the Bobcats and Oilers are? What’s happening right now?”
“I’m an athlete, remember? Volleyball?” I smirk. “Or maybe I recall a certain guy going over it on a podcast. Because I listen.”
His jaw hangs open, but I can tell he’s impressed. “Who is the armchair quarterback now?”
I giggle, remembering when I called him that.
“You are something else,” he says, his eyes promising me round two as soon as we get back home. My core tightens at the thought.
“Barb, we got any tea?” Edward asks. “I’ll go get it if we do.”
She stands, ten times more relaxed than when we arrived, and runs her hands down her joggers. “I’ll get it. Drake, there’s a little meat-and-cheese tray in the fridge. Why don’t you come get that and a package of Hawaiian rolls out of the pantry so we can have a little snack?”
At this hour? Granted, it’s not late-late, but it’s later than I’d imagine most people have a snack in that form. No judgment. If they’re snacky, they might be my kind of people, after all.
“That sounds great,” Edward says.
“Gianna,” Barb says. “You don’t have any allergies or anything that I need to be aware of, do you, honey? I can whip up something safe for you if you need it.”
How sweet. “No. I can eat anything but shellfish, but not because I’m allergic. I just don’t like them.”
“Perfect. I don’t like them either.”
“Do you want to come with me, or stay here? Either is fine,” Drake says softly.
A part of me thinks Barb needs a moment alone with her son. After all, that’s why we’re here—so he can offer whatever support they need. That’s important to him, so it’s important to me.
“I’m good,” I say. “I’ll hang with Big Ed.”
Drake snort laughs, rolling his eyes. “Big Ed, huh? Lord, help us.” He follows his mother out of the room.
I sit back against the soft cushions and breathe a sigh of relief. Everything is going so well. Barb and Big Ed seem to like me well enough, and Big Ed looks relaxed and happy—and not only did he remember Drake, I think Drake is what brought him around. The way his face lit up when he saw him was incredible.
My heart aches as I watch Big Ed fiddle with the remote control. It’s easy to see what kind of man he once was. Hardworking, honest, capable. A lot like this son.
“That boy of mine …” He nods his head. “He’s a good one. But you probably know that.”
“I had an inkling that was the case.”
“My girls are my pride and joy,” he says. “But that Drake. He’s a one of a kind. Not a boy in the world who made his father more proud.”
A lump lodges in my throat, and a burning sensation bridges my nose. The sincerity in his words wraps around my heart. It’s clear to see why Drake is the way he is. His family is amazing.
“You must be one helluva girl to have him bring you home. He doesn’t do that. I was telling him the other day to pick a woman like his mom and not to settle for anything less—then you show up. That says a lot about you.”
I take a shaky breath. “Well, I hope that’s true. Barb seems like a wonderful person.”
“Wonderful?” He pfft’s me. “God broke the mold when he made that woman. She’s a damn saint. The best mother. Hell of a wife.” He sighs. “She’s my best friend, and as proud as I am that Drake’s my son, I’m even more proud that I’m her husband.”
Big Ed stretches back in his recliner, a sad, haunting look settling over his face. The lump grows as I watch him shift in front of me. His gaze turns to mine.
“Gianna?” He licks his lips. “I’m getting confused a lot lately. Even when I’m not, I don’t really feel like myself. Can I count on you to do me a favor?”
“Sure. What do you need?”
His eyes fill with unshed tears. “When my brain can’t think anymore, or I’m gone for good, will you please remind my wife how much I love her? And that I only spoke well of her when she wasn’t around? The only thing that I’m afraid of is that she’ll forget that.”
Tears slide down the apples of my cheeks.
Damn you, Big Ed.
Damn you.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Gianna
“Hi, Claudia. Welcome to Gianna Knows Things. What do you need to know?” I ask, pulling the microphone closer to me. “Let me remind you that I’m not answering any questions about Drake until the end of the show. Please don’t ask about him and make it weird.”