Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
CHAPTER EIGHT
I Can’t be Reading that Right
Hanna
WORK IS INCREDIBLY busy in the weeks leading up to Queenie’s birthday party. With the promotion on the table, I’m pulling longer hours and taking on more responsibilities. I end up having to move my flight to Seattle to the morning of the party, thanks to an unexpected audit on one of my bigger clients. It means I’m up until one in the morning getting all the paperwork in order.
My alarm goes off at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning, my bag already packed for the weekend and waiting at the door. However, I hit the snooze button more than once on account of the exceptionally early hour and am forced to get dressed in a rush. Thankfully, I already programmed my coffee to brew last night, before I went to bed, so I pour a to-go cup, grab a banana, and head for my car. The drive to the airport isn’t long, and I won’t have to contend with rush hour traffic.
I pull onto the freeway and move into the center lane. I take a first sip of my coffee and make a face. My luck with cream has sucked lately. I make a mental note to throw it away when I get home on Sunday. I can grab a fresh cup at the airport.
Unfortunately, I got the time wrong for my flight. It doesn’t leave at eight thirty-five; it leaves at eight oh-five, so I only have minutes to spare once I’m through security to get to my gate. Ryan has upgraded my ticket, but I’m aware that airplane coffee is not the best, even in first class.
I end up passing out—I blame the comfortable seats—and sleep the entire plane ride to Seattle. Thanks to the time change, I still arrive well before noon.
As soon as I step off the plane, my phone blows up with messages. I have a couple from Jake telling me to have a safe flight and to message when I’ve landed. It’s almost disappointing when there’s nothing inappropriate or suggestive in his texts. I fire one off, telling him I’m in Seattle and I can’t wait to see him later.
The group chat with Lainey, Violet, and Stevie is a different story altogether. There must be more than a hundred missed messages in the chat. Ryan is taking Queenie out for the day, so we won’t see her until later at the restaurant. But Ryan, being as thoughtful as he is, has scheduled an afternoon of pampering for the girls and me.
I stop at Ryan’s first, even though he and Queenie have already left, so I can freshen up before the girls pick me up for our afternoon at the spa. We’ll start with massages and facials, then mani-pedis. Queenie has made such wonderful friends here, and I love that they’ve pulled me into their group and adopted me as one of their own.
Stevie, Lainey, and Violet pick me up after I’ve gotten myself settled into what will eventually be a nanny suite, I’m sure. It’s almost like a self-contained apartment on the main floor of the house, and usually where my parents stay when they visit.
Stevie leans over and gives me a side hug as I slide into the back seat. Her hair is a different color every time I see her, and today it’s pale blue. “Yay! I’m so glad you could make it!”
Lainey smiles at me in the rearview mirror. “We were just talking about how nice it would be if you lived closer and we could all see you more often. We’d all gotten used to you being here more than once every three months.”
“When the boys play Tennessee, you’ll all have to come out and visit.” If my whole life wasn’t in Tennessee, including my job and my art studio, I might consider moving this way. But at the same time, NHL players aren’t guaranteed to stay in one place. Ryan is lucky he’s been on the same team for as long as he has, and while his contract is going to keep him in Seattle for the next several years, there’s no saying where he’ll go after that.
“We’ll have to do that before this one gets herself knocked up.” Violet points at Lainey, who is busy driving with her hands at ten and two. Ryan would approve.
“You’re trying to get pregnant again?” I ask. She just had her little girl Aspen not that long ago.
“Kody was a happy accident, but it took forever for me to get pregnant with Aspen.” She smiles slyly and her cheeks go pink. “Not that I mind the trying part, but I don’t want another big gap between Aspen and the next one. And RJ, while accommodating, has said he’d like to have spontaneous sex before the end of this decade.”