Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
“No, you won’t.” Billy chuckles, quite rightly. Nothing will make me cancel tomorrow, only death itself. “Humor her.”
“I always do,” I mumble. But only for Billy. Linda definitely wouldn’t win any Mother of the Year awards, yet she seems to be on a mission whenever I’m around to prove that she should. She’s a selfish soul, all me, me, me. I’ve long learned never to ask how she is, because there is always some ailment plaguing either her or Billy’s father. Headaches. IBS. Arthritis. Stress. She’s not happy unless she’s ill or has something to moan about.
Billy turns at the worktop and lowers me onto the surface, my watchful eyes on Linda as she faffs around my kitchen looking for something to do. She’ll find nothing. I blitzed the kitchen this morning as part of my killing-time mission. “Your hair looks nice, Linda,” I say, reaching for the Pringles and popping the lid.
Her hand lifts to her freshly dyed strawberry-blonde hair and feels. “Three bloody hours in the salon, and one hundred quid,” she practically shrieks, looking at Billy. “Your father will go spare.”
“It’s a special occasion.” Billy approaches her and kisses her cheek, while I munch through my crisps. Linda doesn’t embrace her son’s affection. In fact, she goes somewhat stiff. I’ve often wondered whether her lack of tenderness and warmth towards Billy when he grew up is the reason he craves non-stop attention from me. I shrug to myself. Maybe I should thank her, because her loss is certainly my gain.
Billy makes it back to me, and I spread my legs for him to lean back against the worktop. Dangling my arms over his shoulders, I hold a Pringle in front of his mouth. He takes it all in one go.
“Why are you still here, anyway?” Linda asks, opening the fridge. There are no faults to be found in there, either. I emptied and cleaned it this morning, ready to restock once we get back from our honeymoon.
“He can’t bear to leave me,” I tell her offhandedly, circling my legs around Billy’s waist. “Can you, baby?” I push my face into the side of his head, and he laughs, while Linda simply rolls her eyes, giving her attention to Boris who’s circling at her feet. She shows our dog far more affection than she does me, Billy, or her husband. “He’s probably hungry,” I tell her, aware that I’ve just made her privy to the one thing that I haven’t done this evening. I know she’ll run with it.
“Oh, Boris. Is she neglecting you?” She fusses over him, playing up to his act of starvation as he follows her to his bowl and waits for her to fill it with biscuits. As no one can see me, I roll my eyes, stuffing another Pringle into my mouth. Billy turns towards me, his smile epic. Because he knows what I’m thinking.
“Take her with you,” I whisper-beg in complete vain, pulling another crisp from the tube.
On a smirk, Billy leans in and swipes it from between my fingertips with his teeth, proceeding to crunch his way through it. “No.” He lands me with a hard kiss, blitzing my mind of all things my mother-in-law. I vaguely hear the doorbell ring.
“That’ll be the girls,” I mumble into his mouth. “I hope they’ve brought lots of wine.” Linda is far more tolerable when I have alcohol inside me.
“I’d better go.” Billy pulls me down from the worktop and confiscates my Pringles. “You want to get into your dress, don’t you?” He ducks when I swing at him, then wrestles me into his hold, my back to his front, my arms crossed over my waist. He starts walking us to the door, biting at my neck as I wriggle and laugh, trapped against him. “Stop.”
“Never,” he growls, securing my wrists in one hand and using his free one to pull open the door. Penny and Helen wave bottles of wine at us, their bags piled behind them. “Are those bottles open already?” Billy asks.
They both answer by taking swigs, and I laugh, loving the direction of this evening.
“Make sure she’s at the church on time,” he warns, releasing me and fetching the girls’ bags, dumping them in the hallway.
“Yeah, yeah.” Penny pushes past us. “What are you still doing here, anyway?”
I smile when Billy shakes his head to himself, collecting his overnight bag. “I’m just leaving.” He slips his trainers on by the door and unhooks his suit bag off the picture rail. When he reaches me, he stops and dips, getting his dark eyes level with mine. “See you tomorrow, gorgeous.”
“If you’re lucky.” I grin, pressing my lips to his and keeping them there as he backs out of the house, me following, our mouths attached.
“Oh, you two,” Helen sighs. “You make me want to throw up.”