Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Grace had a penchant for bad boys and players. The guy was probably a drug dealer or some obnoxious frat boy who called everyone “bruh.” “Selling weed?” I offered.
“No. He has a Lonely Fans account.” She rolled her eyes, then she disappeared into the bathroom.
Lonely fans? So it seemed a lot of people did Lonely Fans…
The sink cut on. “And he must make good money.” Water splashed, muffling her voice. “I haven’t looked at his page because he charges forty bucks a picture.”
My pulse sped up. That specific amount sounded uncomfortably familiar, but maybe forty bucks was the going rate on that site. “Forty dollars.” I swallowed, telling myself I was snowballing. “That sounds like a lot…”
“He posts pictures of his dick in front of world monuments. I don’t know why anyone would pay that much to see a dick in front of the Alamo.”
And there it was. Crash. Boom. Ka-pow.
The guy I’d stupidly fallen head over heels in love with had knocked up my little sister.
After Grace had mentioned My Dick Travels as the name of the Lonely Fans account, I hadn’t had much of an appetite, either. I’d heated up some canned chicken noodle soup and tried to convince her everything would be okay while, simultaneously, trying to convince myself the same thing.
It wasn’t until I’d checked in for my flight to Kansas and sat down in the terminal of La Guardia, texting Margot, that I even allowed the idea of tears to come to mind.
WTAF?! Blake???
Did you tell Grace you’d been sleeping with her baby’s daddy?
No. She’s dealing with too much right now.
She’d obviously been there first. And what would have been the point? It’s not like Vance had known we were sisters. It’s not like my telling her I’d been pining after him for the eight months and fucking his brains out for the past week would change anything.
Did you tell the double-dipping dick swindler?
No. That’s not really an over-text conversation.
I will drive down to Alabama and cut off his dick.
Right now.
And that was something else that didn’t need to happen. Because he was dealing with enough, too.
I’ll handle Vance when I get back tomorrow.
But it absolutely would not be at Junoon. I refused to ruin that restaurant experience.
By handle, you mean murder, right?
Because she found out she was pregnant BEFORE you went to Europe. Which means he knew he had a bun in the oven before he fucked you in the Pope’s restroom. He knew he had gotten someone pregnant before he told you he wanted to be with you.
Damn, that had stung.
He should have had the decency to tell you. Oh, by the way, how do you feel about kids? Because if you get involved with me in a few months, I’m going to have a screaming newborn every other weekend.
And to think, a week ago, all I had been worried about was how awkward seeing him at the copy machine would have been after a split. Well, that didn’t seem so awkward when faced with running into him at family gatherings and having my future niece or nephew call him daddy.
Can we go to Mr. Chang’s tomorrow night?
I’ll meet you there at 6?
Because I sure as hell wasn’t going to Junoon.
Chapter Twenty-Six
VANCE
Hey, Babe. Have you landed in Kansas? Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. ❤️
The chirp of crickets drifted through the open window over the sink. I placed the phone to the side of the laminate countertop, then dunked a plate beneath the soapy water. I’d just placed the china on the drying rack when Grandma sidled up beside me, snatching her rubber gloves from the countertop like she was about to take over the dishes.
The doctor had sent her home yesterday and told her to take it easy. But the woman had already tried to organize a church bake sale and trim the hedges.
I shut off the water and turned to face her. “You don’t know how to rest, do you?”
“Well, you ain’t doin’ ‘em right.”
I knew all too well that I’d inherited my stubbornness and need for order from her. Which meant even if I did the dishes exactly like she did them, it wouldn’t be good enough. “I’m doing them just like you taught me.”
She flattened her lips, then pulled on the gloves with a snap of rubber. “Doin’ the dishes makes me happy. Now git.” She shooed me away from the sink. “Making a fuss over nothing.”
Nothing hadn’t sent me home from Europe and Blake. “You had a heart attack, Grandma.”
“And the doctor said I need to take my medicine and get exercise.” She submerged a plate beneath the bubbles. “This is my exercise.” Then she grabbed a bowl. “Don’t you need to go pack your bags or something, boy?”
I had nothing to pack. All I’d come from Europe with was my carry-on. The airline still hadn’t shipped my lost luggage from Singapore, and I had a feeling I’d never see those belongings again. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”