End of Story (End of Story #1) Read Online Kylie Scott

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny, Romance Tags Authors: Series: End of Story Series by Kylie Scott
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Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
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I nodded and chewed at the inside of my cheek. “Well, I don’t have a great track record with parents in general. But my top two reasons currently are your bestie took me to meet his mom and she apparently hated me with a passion. And last weekend you told your parents I’m so clingy you had to stay with me. Pretty sure that didn’t endear me to anyone.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“Hmm.”

It was Saturday night and I was standing on the lawn in front of his childhood home with a charcuterie board in hand. How I’d agonized over the placement of the olives and prosciutto. Not to mention the selection of cheeses. Their home was a sprawling two-story on a hill in Lakewood. Next door sat the house owned by the Ex’s parents. And surprising no one, it was the biggest on the street. I spotted one of the upstairs curtains moving. We were being watched. Not sure if Aaron’s mother was sticking pins in a voodoo doll of me, but I could feel a headache coming on.

“Hey,” he said, leading me down the garden path. “You look beautiful.”

While it was true that my black linen shorts, silk camisole top, and new platform sandals were splendid, I still had serious reservations about attending this small family BBQ. Deborah hadn’t visited again while he was recuperating at my house. Instead, she texted and called her darling son. Given the level of concern she initially displayed, it was hard not to read things into this. Or maybe I was just paranoid. Could be either.

“You even wore a strapless bra for me.” He stopped to kiss me on the neck. A move that never failed to make me shiver. “Thank you, Princess.”

“You’re welcome.”

He opened the front door and shouted, “We’re here.”

“Back deck,” called out Henning.

It was a beautiful evening with a warm breeze, the scent of fir trees, and a killer view of Lake Washington. Clouds in the distance threatened wet weather later. But not for hours yet. Their house was nice, tasteful and homey. Lots of distressed wood, cream accents, and family pictures. Terra-cotta pots full of flowers in bloom decorated the back deck. Maybe Deborah could give me some tips on how to keep my tomato plants alive. Jazz played over the sound system and Henning stood at the grill. He waved his tongs at us in greeting. The same way Tore did at the pool party. Family likenesses fascinated me. How Henning and his sons had the same smile, for instance. My closest relations had little in common with me. Although I had Mom’s dark hair and Dad’s stubborn chin. That was about all.

“Hello, Susie.” Deborah gave me a cool smile and her son a kiss on the cheek. “How have you been, sweetie?”

“On the mend,” Lars said then took a seat at the table. When she went to grab his arm to help, he gently shook her off. “I’m fine, Mom.”

“Of course, you are.”

“I wasn’t sure what to bring,” I said, setting the charcuterie board on the table beside the salads and bread rolls. “Hope this is okay.”

“A cheeseboard.” Deborah smiled. “Unfortunately, I’m lactose intolerant and Henning is watching his cholesterol.”

My return smile was weak as water.

“What would you both like to drink?” she asked. “We have beer, wine, soda...”

“Beer would be great, thank you,” I said.

Lars threw a stuffed habanero into his mouth. “Same.”

As soon as Deborah was gone, I hissed, “Your mom is lactose intolerant?”

“Sorry. Forgot.” He rested his free hand high on my leg. “I’ll eat your charcuterie board, Susie. And that’s not a euphemism.”

“Yeah, but you already like me. I was trying to suck up to your mother.”

He gave my thigh a squeeze. “I appreciate the effort.”

“I’m not sure I’m supposed to interact with families. It’s not my natural environment.”

“Such a pity Tore and his new girlfriend couldn’t come,” said Deborah, handing out the bottles of beer. And there was a distinctly judgmental tone to her voice. Oh this night would be awesome.

“They had tickets to a show. You weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow,” Lars reminded her. “You can hardly blame them.”

“Of course I’m not blaming them, Lars. Don’t be silly.”

If I drank every time his mother made a passive-aggressive comment, there was a good chance Lars would have to carry me out at the end of the night. And Lars was in no condition to carry me anywhere. It was a damn shame I hadn’t put an edible in my purse. Just a nibble would have made everything better.

“So what have you been up to?” asked Deborah. “Watching a lot of TV?”

Lars finished chewing some cheese. “Actually, I read a couple of books Susie recommended. Romance novels.”

“Romance?” Deborah raised a brow. “Goodness.”

Henning’s gaze turned curious. “What did you think?”


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