Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
That evening, once Ava was in bed, I put on an episode of the Stuff You Should Know podcast — this one about sloths — and got to work unpacking and organizing.
Maven was right. The pool house was more like a house house, and it was at least twice the size of the one I was currently renting. The main living area was expansive, with a stained alder ceiling and polished concrete floor. Plush rugs kept the space warm, along with the massive cream couch piled high with pillows I was certain Will didn’t pick out, a cozy electric fireplace, and two oversized leather chairs fit for hockey players the size of my new boss.
The living area bled into the dining area and kitchen, which looked fresh out of a magazine with the navy cabinets, gold hardware, and white marble kitchen island. Nacho had already made himself at home on that island, sprawled out and flicking his tail as he watched me unpack a few of my favorite tea mugs.
Pepper was too busy exploring to sit still. I had to be careful with the gigantic glass doors that opened to the pool. As beautiful as they were, they only begged my mischievous cats to test their luck — to see if they could slip through my legs and out that door before I had the chance to close it.
Pepper would be the first to try, no doubt. He had already figured out how to climb up onto the mantel over the fireplace, as well as scale the empty floating shelves Will had told me I could outfit with whatever I wanted to. I was already plotting out which books and art supplies would go where.
Coconut, on the other hand, was still hiding somewhere — likely under the gorgeous king-size bed. Every time I walked through my new bedroom, I stopped and let out a dreamy sigh at the sight of it. It was memory foam and flush with expensive bedding that made it feel like I was sleeping on a cloud.
It felt as strange as it did comforting, unpacking my belongings as the evening slipped by. Something about the pool house, about Will and Ava in general felt… natural, like they were family already and I’d visited a hundred times.
Then again, everything about it also felt incredibly disconcerting.
I was trying to discern my confusing emotions when my phone rang, a FaceTime request coming through with my mother’s picture on the screen.
With a sigh and a silent prayer to whatever God there was, I propped my phone against one of the giant candles at the kitchen island and took a seat at the bar, tapping the green button to answer the call. Just like always, I’d been texting my mom and grandmother every day — which meant they were fully updated on my situation.
Updated… but not entirely happy.
“You look tired.”
I flattened my lips but managed a smile. “Hello, Mom. Nice to see you, too.”
“You do look tired. Is that man not helping you at all?” Grandma chimed in, poking her head up behind Mom. “Typical.”
“I bet he’s inside his big fancy mansion stuffing his face and watching sportsball,” Mom added with a shake of her head.
“Mr. Perry is probably sleeping,” I chastised them both. “He has practice in the morning and usually gets up early to spend time with Ava before school. And I’ll have you know that he had half his team helping me move, and I didn’t lift a single box.”
My mom and grandma gave each other a look, their lips flat and a little hum of disapproval leaving their chests at the same time. They had it down now so they were in sync, like a symphony of suspicion.
It wouldn’t matter if a man paved a street of gold for me. In their eyes, he’d still be a man — and therefore, a pest.
It was too easy to see our similarities reflected on my phone screen, from our pale, moonlight skin to the soft, coral pink color of our lips. Where Mom got her father’s rich brown hair, I had the same copper tone as my grandma — though hers would go white if she didn’t dye it now. All three of us had the same thick, dark lashes and wide brown eyes. Grandma’s eyebrows had thinned to be almost non-existent except when she drew them on with liner, but Mom’s were still as thick and bushy as mine. Grandma was petite and thin, but Mom was curvy just like I was, her face round and soft where Grandma’s was hard and angular.
“How was Rummy tonight?” I asked.
“You would know if you wouldn’t have canceled on us,” Grandma said, arching a brow. “We had to ask Genevieve to play.”
Mom shuddered. “You know how I feel about that woman.”
Yes. Yes, I did. In fact, I was pretty sure everyone in their little senior community knew how Mom felt about Genevieve. Something my mother excelled at was wearing her mood on her face like a flashing neon sign. It wasn’t that she or my grandmother never smiled, just that those smiles weren’t always friendly — and if they didn’t care for you, you’d know it.