Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
I sighed, leaning against one of the house pillars, and looked out at the pool. “If you want to cancel, you can just say so.”
“Huh? Did I miss something?” The shock was clear in his voice. “Wait, you thought… Okay, man, we gotta get something straight. I’m not a dick—well, I can be a dick, but usually in other kinds of situations. I’m not going to cancel the date. I’m looking forward to it. And you, if I was going to cancel, don’t let me get away with that shit. You’re adorable as hell, and you deserve better.”
Oh… I sure hadn’t expected that. Will continued to surprise me. He had at the event, and he did right then too. It was also the second time he’d called me adorable, so ya know, go me. “Okay.”
“I’m gonna pick you up on Friday. Dinner reservations are at seven. Text me your address, and I’ll let you know what time I’ll be there.”
“Okay.”
“Talk to you later, Jameson.”
“Okay,” I said for the third time in a row. It seemed to be the only word I had, but this was new for me, damn it. I didn’t get Will at all.
He chuckled. “You’re gonna make me crazy, I think, and damned if I might not like it.”
Without another word, Will hung up, and I just stood there, phone to my ear like he was still there.
I was going to make him crazy and he’d like it? Like it how? I wondered. And how much? Apparently crazy was a good thing. Maybe I could work with that.
“Hello? Jameson?” Mom’s voice broke through my thoughts in a questioning way that told me she was standing there wondering what was wrong with me.
“Oh, sorry. Did you say my name more than once? I was spacing off.” Thinking about Will. I was definitely thinking about Will.
“Yes, like three times; it’s like you were in a trance. Your father and I just got home. Come in and eat.”
I followed her into the house, admiring her new haircut, this funky, spiked style I loved.
Dad was loosening his tie at the kitchen island. We had a small, more intimate table in here, but a bigger one in the dining room, where we ate when we had people over. When I lived at home, I’d always appreciated that even when my family was busy, or even when Dad couldn’t be around, Mom made sure we ate together in the kitchen at least a couple of times a week.
We didn’t share meals together that often anymore. They were outside of Atlanta, only about twenty minutes away with no traffic, but I guess it was normal for things to change when you grew up. I was busy with school, and everyone had their own lives.
I saw the containers of Chinese food on the counter and inhaled the scent of fried rice and General Tso’s chicken.
“Is this all for me?” I teased.
Mom kissed my cheek. “Anything for my boy.”
“Anything for my boy,” Cherise mocked playfully.
“Oh, stop. You know I love you too,” Mom told her.
“What about me? Does anyone love me?” Dad asked, and we all laughed, before confirming that we did in fact love him, then piling food onto all our plates and going to the small table.
Like we always did, we started out the meal sharing something we were thankful for. I made a point not to say “a sexy blond who is taking me out.” I made up some shit about the summer.
“How’s work going?” I asked after a little while. Part of me hated mentioning it because I knew it was always going well, and sometimes it made me feel a little guilty because it wasn’t something that was important to me. Not in an asshole way like I didn’t care about his business, but we would know if something was wrong, and Dad was always great.
“Really good. We’ve gotten some new clients, booked some jobs, but I know you’re not interested, so you don’t have to pretend.”
Now I felt like a jerk. “I care, but in a different way than you probably wish I did.”
Dad shrugged. “It is what it is.”
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a pain deep in my chest. Part of me wished I were more like the rest of my family—confident, put together. That I was the kind of son who wanted to be his right-hand man.
“How’s the new PA doing?” Mom asked.
Dad smiled. “Great, actually. He’s impressed me, and you know that’s not easy to do. There’s…something about him. A spark. I felt it when I interviewed him, and it’s clear I made the right decision. He loves it, which helps a lot. I can see him growing within the company and becoming a big part of Crane Entertainment.”
Wasn’t this guy just oh-so-perfect? Of course part of me was thinking, better this guy than me, but again, I also wished I could be who my parents expected me to be. I was positive that was a curse of being someone’s child.