Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“Can we go for ice cream now?” she asked, her wide brown eyes hopeful. “My favorite place is right up the street.”
“Are you done eating?” I looked at the half-slice of pizza remaining on her plate. She hadn’t eaten much, but then again, she’d chattered almost nonstop since we’d picked her up.
“Yes, I’m done.”
“Then yes, we can go for ice cream now.” I signaled the server for our bill, then paid it while Lexi and Sara named their favorite ice cream flavor. It did not surprise me when they both said it was cookie dough. Turned out, they had a ton in common—they both loved skiing, they both loved Taylor Swift, and they both loved to poke fun at me.
“Sometimes he has this piece of hair that sticks up in the back,” Sara told Lexi gleefully.
“You should see his hair in the morning,” Lexi told her. “It’s hilarious. Sticks up all over the place.”
They kept it up after we left the restaurant, walking side by side down the block in a light drizzle. “Sometimes he doesn’t shave and he has whiskers,” Sara cackled. “And once we went swimming and I saw that he had hair in his armpits. And on his chest.”
Lexi burst out laughing and winked at me over her shoulder. “That’s true. He does.”
I grinned and shook my head. “I’m not paying for the ice cream if this abuse keeps up.”
But my mood was good. I was glad for myself—it always felt nice to score a winning shot—but mostly, I was happy for Lexi.
As soon as we’d gotten home from the meeting, she’d tipped over on my couch and napped for hours. I knew she hadn’t slept well last night, so I slipped her shoes off her feet, laid a blanket over her, and let her sleep. When she woke up, she seemed a little out of it—sort of quiet and tense—but I figured the relief probably hadn’t sunk all the way in yet. After we’d picked up Sara, she’d loosened up.
Inside the ice cream shop, I waited by the register, while the two new best friends ordered their cones, I paid for them, and I grabbed a table by the window. They joined me a few minutes later, licking big fat scoops of vanilla ice cream filled with chunks of cookie dough. I tried not to notice the way Lexi’s tongue worked around the perimeter of her cone, or the little dribble of vanilla she licked from her lips while making eye contact with me.
She was such a vixen sometimes. I loved that about her. I loved a lot of things about her, actually.
Living with her was surprisingly easy. Maybe it was because we had so much sex. Maybe it was because we knew it was only temporary. Or maybe it was because we actually suited each other pretty well. Our differences were well matched.
She’d been shocked the first time she came home to a sparkling bathroom and kitchen, the fixtures gleaming, the tiles shiny, the floors spotless. Her jaw dropped when she saw the perfectly made bed. She asked if a hotel maid had paid a visit.
I feigned offense, telling her that after our mom died, we’d all had to pitch in and help out around the house—I’d been too young to cook or run errands, but I was good at household chores. It stuck with me. I even do laundry, I told her, offering to take her clothes off right then and there and put them in the washing machine just to prove I was telling the truth.
She took me up on that offer, by the way.
And her cooking? I’d never eaten so well in my life (nor had I ever endured so many jokes about how much I enjoyed another man’s sauce).
My family adored her, and she fit right in. We’d met Austin, Veronica, and the kids for breakfast at Moe’s. We’d hung out at Buckley’s Pub with Xander and Kelly. We’d participated in family game night at my dad’s. Mabel had FaceTimed us so she could “meet” her new sister officially, and Dash sent a wedding gift, including a handwritten note saying that even though I was a dick for eloping when I’d promised him years ago he could be my best man, he was happy for us and couldn’t wait to celebrate next time he was home.
Everything with her just felt easy.
It’s not that we never argued. Sometimes we didn’t see eye to eye on some facet of the renovation, and when Lexi was determined to get her way, she dug her heels in deep. She was ridiculously emotional, somewhat temperamental, and not above slamming a door when she got mad.
But she was quick to apologize when she’d overreacted, and when I was at fault for saying something insensitive, I’d say I was sorry and try to make it up to her. We balanced each other out. I was good at viewing things big-picture, remaining logical and rational, problem-solving within our budget. She was creative and resourceful, and her stories about the place helped us come up with ideas that were modern with just the right amount of romance and nostalgia. I’d even come to appreciate the way she was incapable of hiding her feelings. I loved that I could read her so easily.