Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Uh, did you hear all the shit you just laid on me?” he reminded her.
“Is my mascara a mess?”
“Yes.”
“Ugh!” She pushed out of the armchair and headed to the powder room. “I’ll be back.”
“You want a drink?” he called after her.
“You have any wine?”
“White or red?”
“Alcoholic.”
He smiled to himself as he headed to the side of his island that had a crisscross in it where he, or more to the point, his housekeeper stored his wine.
He picked a Syrah, opened it and grabbed the aerator.
He was pouring when she returned, throwing her coat on the back of the couch on the way, and hiked her ass on a stool opposite where he was.
He finished with one glass, and she asked, “Is that mine?”
“Yes.”
“More.”
He beat back a chuckle and poured her more.
The island was wide, but he had long arms, and when he was done, he slid her glass across the marble.
She took hold of it and collapsed into her elbow on the counter, the side of her head in her hand, fingers in her hair, and tipped her head back along with the glass when she took a sip.
Christ, he dug Cute Elsa.
He rounded the counter and sat on the stool beside her.
“You gonna be okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered, putting the glass back and twisting it side to side as she lifted her eyes to his. “It isn’t a surprise. There’s never been any love lost. And I mean those words like they sounded. I don’t think they’ve ever been in love. I didn’t press my father about it tonight, because tonight was hard on him, and because it’s not my business. He doesn’t like the idea that we understand they’re both happy to be moving on from each other. He wanted a happy, loving family. As fragile as the illusion always was, it’s been shattered, and so is he. At least about that.”
“Completely understandable.”
“I can’t get past the betrayal. Hers and Oskar’s.”
Hale said nothing, but what he thought was, her brother doing what he intended to do was all kinds of fucked up.
She studied him before she said, “I’m not going to ask, but I know you know.”
“I’ll confirm, hesitantly, that you should have a conversation with your mom, because there’s one thing your brother is correct about. There are two sides to every story.”
That made her take another sip.
Hale kept talking.
“Tom and I are close. We have man to mans and we can, not only because I’m older than Matt, but because we have what we have, and Matt and Tom have something different. They’re building on what they have, and I’m glad for them both. But I understand what Tom did. I understood before. I was plugged into that family, and how I was meant I was hyper-alert to all kinds of shit. So I noticed Genny pulling away from him, even before Tom did, I’d guess.”
Creases formed between her brows. “How you were meant you were hyper-alert?”
“It’s how kids get when their parents hate each other. When everything is up in the air all the time. When you can’t gauge how any situation will go, any situation. All the time. Constant. You learn to read the room. Expressions. Vibes. Body language. Chloe, Matt and Sasha didn’t have to do that. Which made it worse for them. Tom and Genny’s breakup blindsided them. I knew it was coming months before it came. It gutted me, but it didn’t come as a surprise.”
Elsa said nothing.
“It’s not mine to give you, about Tom and Genny,” Hale warned. “But I’ll take this opportunity to thank you for uncovering what you did and burying it then giving me the heads up so I could make it stay buried.”
He was referring to the woman Tom had had a brief relationship with, the prelude to the end of his marriage to Genny.
“It isn’t my business to know more about them. But even if we’re new, I hope it’s my business to understand how you seem to have been on guard your entire life.”
Hale felt his neck get tight.
Elsa didn’t miss it.
“Yes,” she said softly. “You let that slip in order to explain something else to me, but it’s not mine to prod unless you’re willing to share.”
“I think we should focus on you,” he evaded.
“Okay,” she said readily.
“But, babe, my last name is Wheeler.”
She reached out and laid her hand on his forearm that was resting on the counter. “I’d always wondered about that.”
“As you know, it’s Mom’s maiden name. She hated my dad so much, it started before I was born. They got a divorce when she was pregnant with me, and she denied him something at the very least he had half rights to give to me. And that was when it began. Before I was even born. So…”
He let that trail.