Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Kyle busts out into laughter, not expecting Cole’s answering wry joke. Because he is kidding. Mostly.
“What do you investigate?” Cameron questions. He looks thoughtful, like he’s considering this new information logically and rationally, turning it over in his mind to see how it affects them all.
“Whatever I choose to. Clients come to me, tell me what they want, and I decide if it’s worth my time and interest.” Cole’s process is considerably more in-depth than what he’s making it sound like. I’ve seen him researching for hours while we sit on the couch in the evenings, and he’s gone on stakeouts twice in the last week. Locally, thankfully, and he did tell me where he was going and when he’d be back. I still worried, of course, and nearly attacked him when he walked through the door, both with kisses and a full, rambling report of how much I missed him.
“What’s worth your time and interest?” Cameron asks, digging for more. I thought he was being a bossy older brother before, but I can hear the undercurrent of worry in his voice. Not for himself or the family but for Cole. He wants to make sure his brother is safe.
“Corporate espionage, high-profit divorce, child custody, stuff like that. I’m not loaning my talents out to enemy countries or anything.” Cole’s answer is glib, but he nods at Cameron, saying without saying that he hears him and he’s careful.
Cole leads us back into the stairwell and up to his living space. “Home, sweet home,” he says without a smile. This is hard for him. I know it is. He’s spent his whole life thinking his family didn’t care about him, so finding out that they care a lot has set his world view on tilt, reframing a lifetime of feeling left-out and forgotten into something more like self-isolation.
He’s still regaining his balance.
And going so far as to welcome them into his private sanctuary is a vulnerability I don’t think he could’ve exposed a few weeks ago.
But now? Here he is, showing them his soul. And I’m standing at his side like the sunshiniest, loudest cheerleader to have ever existed.
“Dude, your decorator phoned it in. Looks like a page out of Architectural Digest,” Kyle declares as he launches himself at the couch and puts his boots up on the coffee table. “You’re boring as hell, but you’ve got more pizazz than this. You need a pillow or something. Forget doing a hit and hit a TJ Maxx, for fuck’s sake.”
Somehow, that’s enough to break the ice and we all sit down in the living room. I think everyone realizes that Cole’s shared a lot tonight, and though they have a million questions, they don’t have to be asked all at once. So, though they’re still looking around and taking it all in, conversation slowly turns to things other than Cole’s secret life.
Like Chance and Samantha’s honeymoon, which was beachy, sandy, and reportedly did not include visiting a single tourist hot spot. I’m pretty sure they went from the airport to the hotel suite and back, only surfacing from each other for food.
And Cameron’s need for a new nanny because Grace ran off another one, which is apparently not all that uncommon. Kyle suggests getting a puppy, not as a reward, but as a way to teach her calmness and responsibility, but Cameron’s not hearing that at all no matter how many times Kyle declares that Gracie is great with his dog, Peanut Butter, and is a virtual angel when she’s at his place.
When we move to the dining table, Cole mentions it’s never been used, and instead of its being an awkward reminder of how alone he’s been, Kyle makes a joke about popping his dinner cherry and everyone laughs. With a growl of fake annoyance, and secret appreciation for Kyle’s irreverence, Cole serves up the meal he and I made together.
Well, he made it, and I grabbed ingredients, set timers, and stirred a few things after he showed me how to because apparently, whipping, folding, and stirring are all different things.
It’s a family dinner unlike any I’ve ever had. Nobody cries, nobody gets their feelings hurt, everyone talks kindly unless teasing each other, and then it’s with good intentions. It’s everything I wished, hoped, and pretended my family dinners were for my whole life.
The Harrington siblings have it. Or more accurately, they’re creating it right before my eyes.
“How do you like being a nurse at The Ivy, Janey?” Kayla asks, turning the conversation to me.
Hearing her mention my work makes me think of something. But first, I answer her question, recognizing that she’s trying to include me, and I want to be a part of what this family has going on because it’s truly special. “I love it. I always wanted to be a nurse and kinda fell into long-term care work, but I’m so glad I did. It’s hard, especially when we lose patients who’ve been with us for a while, but I like helping make their days, however many they have left, the best they can be, especially when their families can’t always be there for whatever reason.” Before she can ask a follow-up, I switch directions on her, wondering if she and Mason might be a good match. “Kayla, random question . . . how do you feel about facial hair?”