Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Social services will be checking in on the boys soon. It’s another reason to tie the knot with Tristan. His family has a good standing in Courage County, and our marriage will prove that I can give my brothers a stable home life.
Brunch goes about as well as I expected it to. His parents are old money and they’re snooty. But I smile through everything while Tristan sits next to me. I can endure anything as long as it keeps our family together and the farm from being lost. Besides, it’s not like there are dozens of rich bachelors in town looking to marry a nineteen-year-old hairdresser.
“Are you sure about marrying me?” I ask when we’re finally alone. His parents are outside in the garden with their fancy brunch of quiche that Dex took one look at and proclaimed was “yellow puke”.
My future mother-in-law looked like she swallowed a lemon and demanded the help start the next course. I can’t believe I’m marrying into a family that has courses with brunch.
Tristan gives me a smile, bringing me back into the present moment here with him in his family’s oversized living room. There’s a marble centerpiece on the genuine gold leaf coffee table. I can’t help staring and wondering how many haircuts it cost. “I want you, Maisy, and I’m ready to settle down. This marriage will make you a very happy woman. I know it will.”
The words are right, and he’s been nothing but nice to me and to the boys. He even insisted that we don’t need a prenup. He trusts me. There’s no reason to doubt him. But why is something niggling at the back of my mind? Why does some part of me feel this is too good to be true?
He says he cares and just wants to help. He’s insisted that love will grow between us in time and that I should just be patient.
As soon as brunch is over, I head back to the barbershop. I’ve already talked to Tristan and insisted that I’ll keep my job when we’re married. It’s important to me that I earn my own money and contribute to our relationship financially.
Bailey lets the boys stay in the break room where I’ve settled them with coloring books and juice boxes. They won’t be quiet for long, but it’ll buy me a few minutes at least. Most people would probably think that I should be doing wedding stuff today, but Fridays are busy at Bailey’s which always means good tips for me.
Even if I did have today off, I’ve been ducking my friends since my parents’ funerals. I don’t have the energy to deal with other people looking at me with pity. But more than that, I can’t relate to most of them now.
I’m not nineteen anymore. I have a farm to run and kids to raise and a marriage to start. There’s no space in my life for being young and carefree.
Bailey keeps looking at me the entire shift. No, not looking at me. She’s side-eying me. I wonder briefly if there’s some sage marriage advice she wants to offer me. I definitely don’t want to be thinking about her and her husband like that, so I keep ducking her.
But eventually, Bailey manages to corner me when I go to grab fresh linens from the closet. She folds her arms over her ample chest which pushes up her boobs, making the kitty tattoo on her right breast all the more visible. She bought this place after the previous owner retired.
She took me under her wing when my parents died. Gave me this job even though I have no experience. She trained me on the spot, never losing patience with me and giving me a way to support myself and my brothers.
“Heard Striker was here last night.” She pops her gum and stares at me. She’s blocking the door and I can’t get around her.
I wait for her to say more. If she’s fishing, she’s not going to get anything from me. I don’t know why I’m so strangely protective over Striker, but I am. Maybe it’s just because I feel like the whole town has him wrong.
“You need to be careful around that one,” she says.
“Thanks for the tip.” I work to keep my voice flat. I can’t afford to anger my boss, but I also don’t particularly care what she thinks about Striker. That’s the problem with small town living. Everyone wants to weigh in on all of your life choices even if it’s not their business.
“You have the right to refuse service,” she insists. That’s one of the things I’ve loved about working here. Bailey doesn’t put up with men that get handsy. She insists the place isn’t a damn bar and she’ll kick out any patrons that mess with her girls. It helps that her husband is Tank and he’s well, built like a tank. Nobody wants to be accused of giving Tank’s woman shit.