Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“Seems the expansion is going well,” Mr. Wilson commented.
“Are you sure we can’t take you to dinner with us?” Mrs. Wilson asked. “We’d love the chance to catch up with you too.”
“Oh, no, but thank you. I have a whole load of work to catch up on. Opening weekend and all.” A whole night of staring at Gavin’s parents, wondering what my life would have been like? No thank you.
“We under—” she started.
The front door opened, and gust of cold wind accompanied Weston as he walked through, shaking snowflakes out of his hair. He saw me and blinked, his gaze skimming down my body in confusion.
Note to self: wear more than just pajamas and hoodies at home.
“It’s coming down pretty heavily out there,” he said, shutting the door behind him, revealing Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. His eyes flared in surprise.
Mrs. Wilson’s mouth dropped.
Mr. Wilson’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked Weston over.
“Weston, this is Mr. and Mrs. Wilson,” I said, shoving my hands into my back pockets. “They’re Gavin’s parents.”
Weston’s eyebrows rose for a heartbeat, but he quickly turned toward the couple. “Nice to meet you. I’m Weston Madigan.” He stuck his hand out, and Mr. Wilson shook it.
“I’m Maggie and this is Paul,” Mrs. Wilson said, taking Weston’s hand next. “Callie is always so formal. We’ve told her hundreds of times to call us by our first names. We’re all adults now, after all.” She smiled at Weston before looking my way, curiosity in her eyes.
Adults or not, they made me feel like I was still eighteen, not by anything they did but just by being relics of a life I’d long left behind. “Weston and I are roommates,” I explained quickly.
“Oh,” both the Wilsons replied in tandem.
“They’re here to pick up Sutton for the evening.”
“Oh,” Weston said, shrugging out of his coat and walking around the couple to the closet. I snagged mine off the back of the chair and tossed it at him, and he caught it mid-air, hanging it next to his.
The motion didn’t go unnoticed by Mrs. Wilson. “Roommates?” she asked, a downright twinkle in her eye and a smirk playing at her lips.
“Just roommates,” I assured her.
“Did you say Madigan?” Mr. Wilson asked, turning toward Weston. “As in…”
“The very same,” Weston confirmed, and Mrs. Wilson stepped toward me as the guys started talking.
“You know, it would be okay if you were more than roommates,” she whispered. “We’d never judge you, Callie.”
Heat stained my cheeks. “I know.” But I didn’t. “But really, just roommates.” Even if I wanted to, that was the last thing I was going to admit to Gavin’s mom.
“You know, Callie, your parents asked about you when we were at the club last weekend—” Mr. Wilson started, sinking my stomach with those few words.
“Did you tell them my phone isn’t broken?” I interrupted. I hadn’t changed my number in the last eleven years, either.
“They’re not the easiest of people,” Mrs. Wilson said, squeezing one of my hands.
“I was going to say barely human,” Mr. Wilson added. “They called Sutton Sharon, and asked if we were financing your photography hobby.”
“Paul!” Mrs. Wilson hissed. “That didn’t need to be repeated.”
My jaw locked. Hobby?
“They what?” Weston snapped, coming to my side. “Callie is a great photographer. I’ve seen her portfolio.”
I blinked, my surprised gaze swinging to his.
“You left it on the coffee table last week,” he muttered in apology.
“Of course you are! We told them that you never accept our money,” Mrs. Wilson gushed. “And said you’ve made a wonderful life for yourself up here. We’re really so proud of you, Callie.” Her smile turned watery.
“Grandma! Grandpa!” Sutton exclaimed from the top of the stairs.
“Sutton!” Mrs. Wilson held out her arms.
My daughter flew toward the only grandparents she’d ever known, and they hugged her tight. Then the conversation went a mile a minute, catching up on the details of Sutton’s day, but I barely heard any of it.
They asked about us…or me, I guessed, since they had checked out long before I’d become an us.
“So is nine okay?” Mrs. Wilson asked.
I blinked.
“Maggie, I’m sure she has school tomorrow,” Mr. Wilson said softly.
“Nine is fine. You guys should get every minute you can with her,” I said, faking my smile so they wouldn’t see that their words had shaken me.
Mom and Dad had cut me off the second I’d refused to terminate my pregnancy, and now they were asking? Screw them.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Wilson said. “And we’re okay for tomorrow?”
“Of course.” I nodded. “She’ll be here right after school.”
Sutton kissed my cheek goodbye, and I ushered them out the door once her coat was on.
“Are you okay?” Weston asked.
“No.” I shook my head.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
He respected my answer and left me to stew in my own frustration as I edited pictures at the dining room table. I adjusted each image methodically, distracting myself with work for hours. Edit. Upload. Repeat.