Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Yes,” Sutton glanced at me. “I’m just starting my first foundation year.”
“Very good. Which hospital?” he asked.
“Do you like the cake, John?” Mum asked. “Better than I could make?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dad replied. “Your cake is second to none. You won a prize for your cake making.”
Dad could be gruff and annoying and impatient. As kids, he’d been critical and demanding of us. But he was always Mum’s biggest cheerleader and I loved him for it.
“I was fourteen when I won that prize. I’m not sure it’s right to still be taking credit for it all these years later.”
“A prize is a prize,” Dad mumbled. “But this is delicious, Sutton. Thank you. So which hospital did you say you worked at?”
“Drink some wine, Dad,” I said, raising my glass.
“Are you trying to get me drunk? I’ve got beans to tend to, don’t you know? And Dog needs a walk.”
“Just trying to help.”
“Well, stop it,” he snapped. “I’m trying to get to know this lovely young lady you’ve brought home and you won’t let her speak.”
This was it. Dad wasn’t to be blown off course. There was no getting away from the fact I was going to have to tell him that Sutton and I worked together.
Lucky for me, at that moment, the kitchen door swung open and Zach appeared. “Your favorite son has arrived.”
“I didn’t know you were going to be here this weekend,” I said.
“Wanted to be here when you told Dad that you’ve been dipping your pen in the hospital ink. Dad? Did you know that Jacob and Sutton work together?”
Why couldn’t I have been an only child?
“Zachary, go and take Dog for a walk,” Mum said. “We were having a perfectly nice conversation until you came in.”
Dad raised his eyebrows and took a mouthful of cake. Thankfully, he didn’t say a thing. But I’d be hearing about it.
There was no doubt.
Twenty-Five
Sutton
If I’d thought my introduction to the Coves yesterday had been a baptism of fire, breakfast this morning had proved it was only the start. Another of Jacob’s younger brothers, Dax, had turned up late last night and insisted on cooking breakfast for everyone this morning. John was supervising. Zach was doing—I wasn’t sure what.
It was chaos.
But fantastic.
Carole was sitting at the table, flicking through a magazine, no doubt trying to zone out the bickering among her husband and her sons. It was all in fun and had an underlying warmth to it that betrayed intimacy.
I binge-watched from my chair like it was my favorite boxset and all I was missing was the popcorn. There was something so compelling about their dynamic—they clearly loved each other, liked each other, and enjoyed each other’s company. They shared in-jokes and a history I was completely jealous of.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my parents. When I’d gotten into medical school, I’d called my mum to tell her. It had been awkward because we hadn’t spoken since I’d left. I hadn’t been accusatory or asked why she changed the locks on her sixteen-year-old daughter. She gave no hint of a desire to reconcile, so I didn’t reach out again. I spoke to my dad from time to time but he wasn’t interested in me or my life. I’d given up hoping that would change.
Watching the Coves, it was clear how much I’d missed out on.
“Dad, they’re tinned tomatoes,” Zach said. “We don’t need instructions.”
John was squinting at the can. “Jacob, can you get my glasses from the office?” John asked Jacob.
“Have you checked the top of your head?” Jacob asked, winking at me from across the pine kitchen table.
“Ha bloody ha,” John replied, but reached up and felt his head, just in case.
Jacob tilted his head toward the door. “Come with me. I’ll show you the office of the great Doctors Cove.”
Jacob took my hand and we headed across the dining hall and down a corridor painted daffodil yellow.
“You okay?” Jacob asked. “I figure if you don’t have brothers, three of us can be a bit overwhelming.”
“It is overwhelming. But not in a bad way. Growing up in your family must have been . . . wonderful. You all seem so . . . connected.” I tried to think back to a time I felt any kind of connection with my parents. There must have been times when my mum and dad soothed me or sang me to sleep or read me a story or laughed with me, but if there were, I couldn’t remember.
“We have our fair share of disagreements. My dad and I fought a lot when I was younger. But we’re family.” We came to the end of the corridor. “Sorry if that’s insensitive.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. I’m well aware that family means different things to different people. I’ve always been okay with that. Being here . . . it’s the first time I’ve ever felt . . . well, jealous, I suppose.”