Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Oh my God,” I retort on a sigh. “I’m not dating either of them.”
She quirks a brow.
“I’m not!” I exclaim. “Noah works here, and yes, while I was out to dinner with Gavin, I wouldn’t say we’re dating. I’ve already told him that I’m not ready to be dating right now.”
“I love cheese fries!” Grant cries, startling both Brooke and me, but when we look down to find his eyes still closed, my sister goes right back to her interrogation.
“So…” She pauses and searches my eyes. “Tonight, you went on your first date in years with Gavin?”
I cringe. “Technically speaking, it was my second date in years.”
“What?” she exclaims. “Who else have you dated?”
“Relax. Both dates were with Gavin,” I answer and cross my arms over my chest. “And frankly, they weren’t even full dates. Both were interrupted halfway through.”
“You’ve gone on two dates with the same guy?” she questions and narrows her eyes at me. “And you haven’t told me anything? I am seriously livid right now, Sam.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“How am I dramatic?” She gestures wildly in front of her with both of her hands. “You’ve been on two dates with a man you’ve told me nothing about, and you’re standing there acting like you’re not dating. Get real, sis.”
“It’s just dinner, Brookie,” I explain. “Nothing serious is going on.”
“So, you’re not really dating Gavin, even though you’re going on dinner dates with him?” she questions like a real judgmental hag. “And what about Noah?”
“What do you mean, what about Noah?” I retort. “He’s here tonight because he works here.”
Don’t forget about the almost-kiss, my mind taunts like a real b-i-t-c-h. Obviously, I ignore it. That’s the last damn thing I’m going to tell my currently riled-up sister about. Lord knows she’d flip her shit.
“Seriously, Sammy?” Brooke questions, but it’s not a question at all. It’s her version of chastising me. “You can’t be that dense,” she adds on a scoff, and it’s my turn to narrow my eyes at her.
“Excuse me?” My claws are officially out. “How am I dense?”
She searches my skeptical gaze, but eventually, she lets out a big sigh. “Just forget it.”
“No, I don’t think we should just forget it,” I counter and drop my voice to a whisper. “Actually, I think we need to talk about the fact that you keep acting like Noah is the perfect man for me, but he’s never asked me out. Not to mention, in the past week alone, I’ve seen him out on two different occasions with two different—and very pretty, mind you—women. Trust me, Brookie. The man has a lot of options, and I’m not on his radar as being one of them.”
“What? When did you see him out?” she questions, but three knocks to Grant’s recovery room door stop the conversation on a dime.
“Hello,” Dr. McCormick greets as he steps inside the room. “How are we doing in here?”
I discreetly let out a deep exhale, releasing the stress the conversation with my sister just pushed inside my chest, and force a smile on my lips. “He’s still a little sleepy but doing pretty well.”
Brooke glares at me as the doctor steps up to Grant’s bedside, and I narrow my eyes in warning, silently conveying, Cut it out.
She flashes Ross Geller’s version of the middle finger at me, but thankfully, Dr. McCormick is too busy examining Grant to notice.
“How are you feeling, Grant?” the doctor asks, and I’m happy to see my little boy’s eyes open.
“Good,” he says, his voice still a little scratchy with sleep.
“Well, you did awesome in your surgery,” Dr. McCormick says with a smile. “Do you remember why you had to have surgery?”
Grant nods. “Cuz I broke my arm.”
“That’s right,” the doctor agrees with a nod. “You broke your arm, and you had surgery so that we could fix it.”
“Is it fixed?”
“It is, buddy,” I say and rub a gentle hand over his cheek.
Dr. McCormick examines the circulation in Grant’s fingertips, ensuring that the cast isn’t too tight, and Grant just stares down at his red-casted arm with curious eyes.
“You think I’ll be able to play the guitar?” Grant blurts out, and the doctor looks over at him with a smile.
Guitar? What is he talking about?
“Yes, of course,” Dr. McCormick answers quickly. “Once your arm has some healing time, you’ll be able to play your guitar again in no time.”
“That’s so cool!” Grant fist-pumps the air with his uncasted arm. “I’ve always wanted to play the guitar! How good do you think I’ll be?”
Dr. McCormick bursts into laughter, and his eyes meet mine. “You have quite the spitfire here.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Well, everything is looking really good, Mom,” the doctor announces with confident shoulders. “We’re going to keep Grant overnight just to be safe, but for the next few days, I want him to rest and keep his arm elevated.”