Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
It sounds muffled to me, though, as I keep thinking of Anya. The image of her smile haunts me, a stark contrast to the sadness Carol hinted at.
“Callum Atwood, don’t raise your voice to me,” Carol scolds, her tone firm. “You need to realize what an asset your sister is to that brewery. She needs to hear it. So stop being such a hardhead and do what you know is right.” She shakes her head and looks at me. “Griffin, you’re here to keep them from going at each other’s throats.”
“Mom...” Callum starts, but she holds up her hand as Don walks down the stairs.
“Dinner is ready. It’s staying warm in the oven. Anya is in the shower, so it would be nice if you had everything set for her when she gets out.” She tosses her apron at Callum and smiles. “Have fun.”
A night with Anya and Callum. This really is bad news.
Callum catches the apron, grumbling under his breath as he heads to the kitchen. I follow, trying to shake off the unease that’s settled in my gut. The kitchen is warm and inviting, the smell of lasagne and fresh bread filling the air. Callum starts pulling dishes from the oven, and I set the table, my movements automatic as my mind races.
“Dude, can you believe this?” Callum mutters, placing a few dishes on the counter. “All this fuss just because Anya’s feeling a bit down?”
“She’s your sister, Callum. Sometimes it’s the little things that matter,” I reply, trying to sound nonchalant. But inside, I’m a mess. I know I’m the reason she’s feeling down, and it tears me apart.
We set everything up, and I can hear the faint sound of the shower running upstairs. My thoughts keep drifting to Anya, wondering how she’ll react when she sees me. Will she be angry? Sad? Indifferent? The uncertainty is killing me.
Chapter 9
Anya
I hear voices when I step out of the shower, but I figure it’s just my mom and dad. My mother’s been excited about making lasagna, and she even told me she made something special for dessert. I don’t know why she’s going all out on dinner, but whatever. It’s a comforting thought, considering the turmoil inside me.
My phone dings on my dresser, and I pick it up, checking the text that just came through.
Willow: Sex is highly overrated, right? Like there’s no reason I should expect too much from Lake, right?
I stare at the text thread between Willow, Hartford, and me.
Hartford: Sex is never overrated. When you’re with the right man it’s worth it.
Willow: How do you know if you’re with the right man? I care a lot about Lake, but we just can’t seem to get the sex right.
Is it that bad?
Willow: Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Maybe I’m just not a sexual person.
I can totally relate. I think sex is overrated. That mind-numbing sex they talk about in romance novels isn’t real.
Hartford: I beg to differ. Sex between Pax and me is off the charts. (Sorry Anya)
I laugh, and am grossed out at the exact same time, but it makes me wonder if Hartford is right. Is there life-changing sex out there?
Willow: It’s not just the sex between Lake and me that’s bad. We’ve been sort of fighting a lot.
Hartford: About what?
Willow: I don’t even know, tbh. He’s always sort of controlling.
Dump him. You don’t need that in your life.
Hartford: Controlling in the bedroom is a plus, but not in ordinary life. Do you even see a future with him?
Willow: Not really. It was just nice having somebody. I don’t want to be alone forever. And he’s not controlling in the bedroom. He’s not really anything in the bedroom.
You won’t be.
I put my phone down, thinking about my own life. Will I be alone forever? My head’s been a mess since I put it all out there on the line with Griffin. How had I read the signals wrong? I replay our interactions over and over, trying to pinpoint where I misunderstood his intentions. The confusion and disappointment are like a weight on my chest. Whatever the case, I read them so wrong.
I finish towel drying my hair, tossing on a pair of jeans and a cute red top that hangs off both shoulders. The color is vibrant, a stark contrast to my mood. I don’t bother putting on makeup because it’s just a normal night at home. The natural look seems fitting for how exposed I feel after everything with Griffin. I have to work this weekend, and after dinner, I plan on getting a hold of Griffin to discuss the menu. Despite everything, work must go on, and I need to maintain some sense of normalcy.
As I head downstairs, the voices become clearer, and I realize there are more people here than just my parents. I step into the dining room and see Griffin and Callum setting the table. My heart skips a beat, and I freeze at the doorway, momentarily taken aback.