Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“I’m not really thinking about the future,” I say with a perfect disregard for the truth. How can I not think about it? I sometimes obsess. “After what happened with Mitch, I’m taking things as they come.” And avoiding those mistakes. The way I see it, my visa is just around the corner, and then I guess we’ll see where this goes.
“That’s fair,” she agrees. “But don’t close your mind to opportunities. He did buy all those glasses for you, remember?” She presses her hands over her heart, doing that cartoon-heartthrob thing.
“Such a dork,” I mutter, smiling as I think of all the things he’s done for me. The denials he’s made when there really is no arguing with how sweet he can be.
“How is Riley, by the way? Have you heard from him lately?”
I nod. “I spoke to him a couple of days ago. The surgery went well, the external fixators are hell, and he’s starting physio.”
“Ouch.” Yara shudders, then reaches for her cup. “If you ask me,” she says, putting it down again, “a man doing anything for you is the pinnacle of manhood—the hottest version of said man.”
“You mean Oliver?”
“Who else?”
“Yeah, you could be right.” Not that I plan on telling him or anything. He’d probably accuse me of being up to something.
“Also, love and happiness have been known to spring from stranger wells.”
Yara doesn’t know the roots of this thing sprouted in blackmail. But can I really shout blackmail when it’s suited my purposes too?
“Stranger wells.” I harrumph.
“What?”
“Name a relationship with a stranger beginning than a woman in a wedding dress hurling herself into a stranger’s car.”
“Okay.” She drops her hands to her lap and appears to think for a little while. “So, my cousin, Sam. She was out with some bloke on a first date, a blind date. Anyway, she said he was a horror, that the only way she’d get through the date was with alcohol. So, there she was, ordering a drink at the bar, when this other dude, off his chops, barged up and pretty much ordered over her. Jumped the queue!”
If there’s one thing that will make a Brit pissed off, it’s queue (or line) jumping.
“She was well annoyed and elbowed him in the guts as she turned around to give him a mouthful. The bloke got in her face, and her date got up from their table to defend her. There was a massive fight, and to cut a long story short, she’s been happily married for three years now.”
“To the horror of a date?”
“No. He was a conspiracy theorist—one of the tin hat brigade. She married the policeman who carted her off to the station. Brawling in a pub is a public-order offense.” She holds out her hands as a kind of ta-daa! “The lawman and the lawbreaker. Stranger wells.”
“Cute.” But not quite as convoluted as my own meet-cute and all that’s followed. A tale of cheating exes, blackmail, a fake relationship turned kind of real, a stately home grab, lions, tigers, and . . . puppies!
My love life is a zoo. But it’s about to get worse.
Chapter 37
EVIE
“Honey, I’m home!” I call ironically, kicking the door closed with the sole of my sneaker. I slide my purse from my shoulder and drop Bo’s leash when I freeze at the high-spirited echo I was not expecting.
“Honey, we’re here! How cute,” I hear next, pitched lower for her audience. “I just love how darling you both are.”
What in the actual fish cakes . . . My mom is here? I guess it figures that she’s already decided Oliver is the man of my dreams. She wouldn’t even come to my wedding—she hasn’t even seen us together, not that any of that would matter to her! Like attracts like, she would say.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” I try not to sound accusing as I find her, my stepfather, and Oliver cozied up on the couches.
“There’s my girl!” She rounds the coffee table, her arms outstretched, though not for a real hug. Hers are more of a let’s-not-let-our-bodies-touch gesture, accompanied by a superficial peck on the cheek. On this occasion, there’s also a high-pitched squeak. “Oh, there’s a doggy here too.”
“This is Bo,” I say, redirecting his nose from her tasteful cream pants. “He’s kind of friendly.”
“Some might say a little too friendly,” Muffy murmurs as she edges away. I can feel her eyes running over me as I settle Bo by the chair, pulling an emergency distraction chew from my jacket pocket.
“You look well.” Well is a pass in her book. Hell, it’s almost a compliment. “Have you been to the gym?”
Do I look like I need to? No, I decide. That wasn’t a jibe. This time.
“No, I was at work. I stopped off for a coffee with a friend on the way back.” She glances at Bo as though she’s not convinced. “When you’re a vet, bring-your-dog-to-work day can be every day.” And when you don’t want to keep annoying the chef in the hotel belonging to the man you’re in a . . . whatever with, you take him with you.