Total pages in book: 198
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
That made me smile, and I opened the messages from my aunt.
Aunt Carolina: The antichrist just emailed me to ask for your phone number. She offered to pay for it!
Aunt Carolina: [image attachment of a screenshot of her email]
I blew it up and read it. And yes, Mrs. Jones had lost her shit. She was offering to pay my aunt for my phone number. Wow. That woman literally hadn’t heard the word “no” in years. It was kind of nice to know she was desperate since I’d blocked her on Facebook too.
Me: I’ve never felt so honored. A whole $500! WOWEE.
Mrs. Jones spent five hundred dollars on dinner. Really? That was nothing for her anymore.
I thought about that the entire ride back. About how one person could throw someone else away and then decide they wanted them back after all. For selfish purposes. Not because she was so fond of me or thought that I could make her son happy.
How could they think that I would ever forgive and forget? This wasn’t 50 First Dates. I wouldn’t forget what they’d done.
And they really thought so little of me? Of my family? That they would rat me out for five-hundy? For ten thousand, they totally would.
But then they’d take me to get my number changed and we’d go out to eat afterward and have a good laugh.
I stewed on that shit for way too long as Rhodes steered the SUV, which was really nicely restored now that I’d finally seen the inside of it, down the driveway. We all got out, and Am ambled toward their front door, pretty much dragging his feet. Rhodes hovered by the car, and Mr. Randall headed toward his SUV, muttering about something he’d left in it.
And I just stood there before saying, “Bye, Amos. Bye, Rhodes. See you guys tomorrow. Thank you for inviting me!” I wasn’t sure what their plans were, and I could only wish them the best.
Rhodes, though, turned and nailed me with his serious face, all angles and harsh bones. He was so close, and he dropped his voice so only I could hear him. “Thanks for coming with us.” I could feel the heat coming off his body.
“You’re welcome.” I beamed at him.
“I owe you one.”
I shook my head. “You don’t, but if you want to give me any skiing or snowshoeing tips, I’ll take them.”
Those incredible gray eyes swept over my face, and it was his turn to nod. “You got it.”
We both stood there watching one another, the silence between us thick and heavy.
Lowering my gaze, I noticed his fisted hands at his sides.
I forced myself a step back. “’Night. Good luck.” Then I took another step. “Goodnight, Mr. Randall. Thank you again for dinner.”
The older man was already at his car with the driver’s-side door open. He seemed to stand up straight, but didn’t turn around before he replied, “You’re welcome. Goodnight.”
Rhodes and Am disappeared into the house just as I was halfway to the garage apartment when Mr. Randall spoke up again.
“Do they hate me?”
I stopped and found him standing between the opened door and the seat. The faint glow of the dome light illuminated him from the back, telling me he was looking in my direction. I hesitated. I hesitated big-time.
“You can tell me the truth; I can handle it,” Mr. Randall went on, his voice like steel.
And still, I hesitated. Then I pressed my lips together for a second before telling him, “I don’t think that they do. I didn’t even know up until about a week ago that you . . . were around.”
“They do hate me.”
“If that’s what you think, Mr. Randall, I don’t understand why you’re asking me. I told you the truth. I don’t think they do, but . . .”
“Should I leave?” he asked suddenly.
“Look, I know very, very little about your situation with them. Like I said, I didn’t know until a week ago that Rhodes—Tobias—whatever you call him, even had a dad. I’ve lived here since June, and I’ve never seen you before.”
Like his son and grandson, he fell back into silence.
“Do you want them to hate you?” I asked.
“What do you think?” he snapped.
“That you’re asking me a question, and now you’re being kind of rude,” I told him. “And that you were being rude to Am and to Rhodes—Tobias—and now you’re trying to turn this around and seem like the victim.”
“Pardon me?”
Oh man, it really was so much easier when I didn’t have to care about my future with someone when they were being jerks. “You criticized Amos. You talked down to your son. My uncle has three sons, and they all think he’s the absolute greatest. I think he’s the greatest. My dad wasn’t around hardly at all while I was growing up, and sometimes I wish he would have been. But he seems like a pretty decent man.