Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
She stares at me with concern wrinkling her forehead. “What if I go to school a couple of hours away?”
The question hits me in the gut. I knew it was a possibility. I was just hoping she wouldn’t go that far.
“Then you’ll have somewhere to come home to on weekends and breaks.” I take another sip of orange juice. “Or I’ll bank the money and when you’re done with school, we’ll figure out where we want to live.”
She blows a relieved breath and pokes her fork into her eggs.
“Molly, I want you to go to school wherever you want. I’m not gonna be the guy holding you back. I want to help you soar, not keep you chained down.”
Her bottom lip trembles. “I…I want to do the same for you. You want to buy the garage—”
“The world is full of garages, Molly. If you want to move somewhere else, I’ll find another one.”
A relieved smile slips over her face. “Remy mentioned he might want to sell the house one day.”
“Shit, really?”
She grins. “I said you were gonna move in with us and he can be a manny to our kids.”
I choke on a piece of sausage. “How’d he respond to that?”
“He laughed.” She shrugs.
Huh. Not the reaction I would’ve gotten from Remy if I’d made the same joke.
We finish eating. Every few minutes, she grazes her foot against my calf under the table, then shyly glances away.
“Do you want another waffle?” she asks.
I glance down at the towel I’m still wearing. “I think I’m gonna get dressed. You’re welcome to come help.”
“I’ll finish the waffles, then come find you.”
“Deal.” I lean over and kiss her cheek.
Molly
I stand and drool over Griff’s legs as he pads out of the kitchen. Shaking my head, I clear the table.
“Leave the dishes. I’ll do them!” Griff shouts.
I stack the dishes in the sink. The waffle maker beeps, and I pry the sweet, golden, fluffy disk out of the griddle and set it on a plate. Then I pour the rest of the batter into the griddle and snap it shut.
Someone knocks on the apartment door. I whisk a towel off the counter and wipe batter off my fingers.
“I got it,” I call to Griff.
Please don’t be Tanya again. Griff said his mom made it to Jersey and seems happy there. She can’t be back already, right?
I press my nose to the door, peering into the peephole. Bright light sears my eyeball. I wince and jerk away. What the heck?
“Griff, I’m not sure who it is.” I reach for the knob and twist.
“Hang on!” Griff shouts.
I try to twist the knob but the lock scrapes and doesn’t close all the way. The door flies open, hitting my shoulder.
“Ow!” I jump back, pressing my hand to the sore spot. Thank God it missed my face.
The blinding light bobs closer. I squint against the glare. The glowing orb seems attached to a large camera held by a man with a pointy beard. Two more people follow him inside.
“We’re here for Griffin ‘Stonewall’ Royal.” A short, older woman with pink hair stops and peers up at me. “Are you the girlfriend?”
What the hell is happening? “Uh, yeah. And you are?”
“Diane? What the fuck?” Griff says from somewhere behind me. A few seconds later, he drapes a protective arm over my shoulders and pulls me against him.
“Griff?” Trembles of fear travel up my legs. “What’s happening?”
“She even legal?” The man behind Diane runs his dismissive gaze over me and scoffs.
Was that directed at me?
Diane’s gaze narrows on me. “Do you live here?”
Griff squeezes me tighter with one arm and reaches for the camera, pushing it out of my face with his free hand. “Leave her out of this. She’s not part of the show.”
The show. This is the woman responsible for recruiting my boyfriend onto a reality show and taking him away from me all summer. My fingers curl, desperate to wrap around her throat and squeeze really hard.
Diane tilts her head but doesn’t repeat her question. She focuses her energy on Griff.
“We decided to accelerate the schedule.” Her chipper tone grates against my nerves like pebbles in my shoes. “The surprise pick-up adds excitement.” She grins, wide and amused. “One of our other producers already got punched in the face. It’ll make a great episode.”
Her gaze lands on me again, and a sick feeling slithers through my stomach. “Although, barely legal teen girlfriend might be an even better hook. Please tell me you’re at least eighteen, sweetheart? Do your parents know you’re here?”
Griff says, “Don’t,” at the same time that I say, “Yes, I’m eighteen.”
“Oh, thank God.” She presses her palms together like she’s in a church and raises them toward the ceiling. “We want a bad boy, but not a statutory rapist.”
“The age of consent is seventeen in New York,” I mutter, remembering Hayden’s advice about dating Griff.