Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Tessa!” I say, my jaw dropping.
She shrugs. “Oh, hush. It’s fine. He’s famous. This is part of what happens when you’re famous. You have to deal with people talking about your peen in exchange for money and power. I would never say anything about it to his face or make him feel uncomfortable.” A naughty smile curves her lips. “I’d just…look at it. A lot. And maybe make it my screensaver.”
“Gross.” I wrinkle my nose.
“Hey, I don’t have kids or a roommate or a boyfriend. No one cares what I have on my screensaver.”
I grunt. “Still. Even the world’s prettiest penis isn’t something I want to look at every time I’m online. There’s a time and a place.”
“You’re probably right,” she says, deboning a salmon filet with the skill of an artist.
She really is the best. I don’t know what I’ll do if she leaves me to open a restaurant the way she’s been daydreaming about for years. Probably cry for a week and stop offering fish as a banquet or wedding option. I just can’t deal with deboning that much fish. Ever since I was pregnant with Chase, the smell of raw seafood makes me nauseous.
The thought reminds me of Aaron and how much pain he was in last night. It makes it impossible to be annoyed with him, even if he is making my Monday more Monday-ish than usual.
The bell over the door in the front room dings again and Tessa calls out, “I’ll be right with you. Just need to wash up, feel free to look around.”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll see what they want,” I tell her, drying my hands on the towel beside the sink.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. You have fish hands and five more filets to debone. I’ll be right back.” I breeze past her, holding my breath until I’m past the fish stink area. In the front room, where we sell soup mixes and seasonal food merchandise as well as meet with clients to plan menus, I see who’s decided to stop by, and my heart lifts in a way it hasn’t all day.
As soon as Chase sees me, he smiles and squirms out of Ben’s arms, shouting, “Mommy!”
“Hey, buddy!” I crouch to scoop him up and twirl him around in my arms. “What’s up? How was school today?” Chase likes to call his daycare “school.” It makes him feel like a big kid like his cousin Sara Beth.
“Good,” Chase says, playing with the top button on my chef jacket as I kiss his chubby cheeks, still cold from the February air outside. “I had animal crackers and apple juice and strawbabies.”
“Hmm, sounds delicious,” I say, charmed as always that my little foodie has to fill me in on what he ate first. He truly is my kid. “What else? Did you play on the slide and the swings?”
“No, it too cold,” he says. “But I did finger paints.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Ben says, crossing to join us by the checkout counter. “Chase wanted to give you the picture he made. So you could hang it up on the fridge and it would be waiting when he comes home tomorrow afternoon.”
“Heck, yeah, that’s awesome,” I say, cuddling him closer. “I can’t wait to see it.” I reach out as Ben hands the painting over, my jaw dropping as I take in the mess of red and blue finger smudges that somehow looks like a major work of art. At least to this proud mama. “Wow, this is awesome. You’re so talented, bud. You’re going to be a fabulous artist someday.”
“It’s Keenoo,” Chase says, because he can’t say Keanu. His eyes dance with excitement as he points to the page. “That’s his tail. And all his teeth!”
“I see that. That puppy has soooo many teeth,” I say, laughing. “We’ll have to show this to Uncle Barrett next time he comes over. He’ll be jealous that I have such an amazing portrait of his puppy.”
“I want a puppy. And a skunk,” Chase says, picking up the same refrain he’s been singing since Barrett adopted Keanu and my other brother, Christian, took in a domesticated skunk.
“No skunks,” Ben says, meeting my gaze over our son’s head. “But we’ll see about the dog.”
I widen my eyes in a silent “what the fuck?” but banish the expression when Chase looks up at me with an expression of pure joy. “We can get a puppy? Can we, Mommy? A puppy at our house?”
“Daddy said we’ll see, which means we have to talk about it and decide as a family,” I say, cursing Ben for giving him hope. I love animals, but I don’t have time for a pet right now, especially a high-maintenance one. I’m barely keeping all the plates spinning right now, let alone if I had to add potty training a new puppy into the mix.