Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
“What the fucking fuck are you talking about? Where the hell are you going on such short notice?” he asked like an outraged housewife.
I smiled. Finally. It’d taken way too long, but I finally had the upper hand. “I’m taking Georgie on a surprise getaway.”
“Wait…are you serious? You just got back from your honeymoon, you fucker. I know because I’ve still got one more bill to pay for the room and board on your devil cat and his canine fuck buddy.”
I guffawed. “Now, I know you don’t want to go there, do you? You’re the one who lost Walter, hence you’re the reason he was in that vet’s office, double-fucking-hence, you are the reason I now have a motherfucking horse for a dog.”
He grumbled under his breath, lots of colorful words, I was sure, but when he came back on the line to talk to me, he’d changed his tune a little bit. “Where in the hell are you going?”
“On a trip,” I answered, pointedly leaving out the details. “We leave tomorrow. Won’t be back until Sunday.”
“You’re going to be gone the whole weekend?!” His outrage made zero sense from a friend with his own apartment, career, and sense of purpose. The thing with Thatch, though, was that things often didn’t make much sense. When I wasn’t directly involved, it was funny. When I was, it was mostly painful. “And why is this the first time I’m hearing about it? Does Wes know about this?”
“I don’t know, Mom,” I answered, sarcasm combining with soft chuckles. “I guess it slipped my mind that I should’ve requested your approval before scheduling it. And, yes, Wes knows about it because he’s Georgie’s boss and I had to make sure she had the days off work.”
“I’m going to be honest, K. I am not happy about this one bit.”
“And while your honesty is appreciated, I would like to respectfully counter that I don’t give a shit. All I care about is taking my wife to Cabo.”
“Wait…you’re going to Cabo?”
Ah, shit. Telling him where we were going definitely wasn’t part of the original plan.
I didn’t respond, but I didn’t have to. He was happy to inquire again, this time at a yell. “You’re going to Cabo, and you didn’t invite me?”
“Yes, T. I’m taking Georgie to Cabo, and you’re not invited.”
“By God, I finally know how Caesar felt at Brutus’s hand. The betrayal! The conspiracy! You know, you fucking know, I love Cabo!”
“Yeah, well, call me crazy, but I felt like you coming along as a third wheel for Georgie’s and my Valentine’s getaway would’ve been a little awkward, so knifing you in the back was a necessary consequence.”
“Wait…Valentine’s getaway?” he questioned, confusion in his voice making the anger a little less potent. “It’s fucking May, dude. Almost June. That ship sailed months ago.”
“It’s not for the one that’s passed. It’s for the next one. An early Valentine’s getaway.”
“Explain yourself,” he demanded hotly.
As much as it was an option to hang up the phone, it also wasn’t. The other thing about Thatch was that he took Dylan Thomas’s poem “Do not go gentle into that good night” very seriously. And Thatcher’s form of raging in this situation would be to demon dial me until I picked up again, and if necessary, to show up in Cabo just to hear me explain this shit to his face.
The sooner I put it to rest, the better off I’d be.
I sighed. “February 14th has, historically, been a very unlucky day for Georgia. Fires, mishaps, her dad running around the lawn in a Speedo like the fucking Kool-Aid man—it’s all very traumatic.”
Thatch laughed raucously. “Man, I love Dick Cummings.”
“Of course you do. And frankly, I love him too. But Georgia’s been through the wringer, and I’m gonna try like hell to turn this holiday’s curse around. Even if that means starting by celebrating in May.”
“Point taken,” Thatch confirmed. “So, I take it you have a whole bunch of romantic fucking plans for Cabo? A bid to maintain your status as the swooniest billionaire to ever live or some shit?”
“Yes. Well, sort of. I wouldn’t say I have an actual itinerary. Pretty sure the whole surprise getaway speaks for itself.”
“That’s it? Pfft. What a disappointment.”
“What are you talking about?” I retorted. “I’m taking my wife on a surprise getaway to Cabo. The point of vacation is to relax. We’ll go to the beach, eat good food, and have lots of sex. Sounds pretty fucking swoony to me.”
“Sure, sure. But do you have any fancy dinners reserved?”
I paused, hating that Thatch was climbing inside my brain and starting to plant seeds of doubt. I didn’t need to have a plan. We’d make it when we were there, based on what we felt like. There were plenty of options. “The resort has some really nice restaurants to eat at.”