Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I’m the mother. And I’m the grandmother. We know who you are, sweetheart. Your parents called. Good to see you safe and sound. They both looked far too pleased with themselves.
Now I get why they knew I was here. The cameras and all. I can feel the heat rising under my skin, and it’s not a good heat. It’s the anger of being spied on, manipulated, and forced into doing something. Of being meddled with and messed with. I wonder if the sink has a grinder in the drain. Just wetting all that tech doesn’t seem like enough.
“Mom!” Thaddius drops his fork and lets it clatter. “That’s intensely awkward, given that we’re both sitting right here.”
“I know you’re both sitting right here. Why do you think I’m trying to have this conversation? Why do you think we came over in the first place?”
“We’re not getting married.” His jaw ticks stubbornly.
My stomach tightens. I like that jaw tick. That jaw tick is fabulous. I also wish I could protect him from this, which is a new feeling for me. I’ve never been protective over anything or anyone in my life.
“I actually came here to—” I start, trying to defuse the bomb about to go off.
“To be convinced. Romanced. Swept off your feet?” his grandma suggests, her voice filled with hope. “To find the good in the bad. To un-shock the shock. To reclaim your life. Absolutely. But I think you might be surprised.”
“We’re not getting married,” I state flatly. There’s clearly no room for error here.
His mom gapes at Thaddius. “She’s so sweet!”
“And beautiful!” his grandma adds.
His mom’s bob nods along in unison with his grandma’s. Her hair is a lighter color, while his grandma’s hair is fully grey, but the comical effect is absolutely the same. “You couldn’t ask for a better wife.”
“You really couldn’t. Darn it and a half, we did well. Picked this one out before she was even born, and look at her now! Hoo-ee, we picked you a winner.” This time the hoo-ee is actually yelled out, a real hoooooooooooo-eeeeeeeeee that nearly makes me leave my seat.
Thaddius doesn’t even react. “Fine. You marry her then.”
“I can’t. I’m already married to your grandpa.”
“Then you do it, Mom.”
“I’m married to your father.”
“Well, I’m married to my life out here.” I guess this is him reacting. He slowly crosses his arms, which makes his muscles bulge, and his veins stand out, while my panties start to send off random sparks that might burn the house down before the three of them implode it with this tense-ass situation. “I’m married to my single bachelor life out here, and that’s not going to change. I have room in my life for more sheep, more chickens, and maybe even a goat or two. Definitely another dog and absolutely another cat. I’ve also been meaning to get a donkey companion for Herman Merman. And maybe a llama to help guard the sheep. But not a wife. Never a wife. There is zero room for a wife here.”
“Well then, don’t marry her,” Elmira huffs. But both of us know better than to take her at her word. “You could just be friends. Friends with benefits. And then you could fall in love, and then you could get married.”
“Granny!”
“What? I’m a realist. I’m just trying to give you a workaround solution.”
“For the love of God. That is not a workaround. And you’re going to call yourself a realist! You, who planned this long before I was even born? Doomed me, I should say. Doomed both of us.”
I feel the need to point something out, but my voice doesn’t come out as strong as I want it to. “Doomed would imply we’re actually going to go through with it, which we’re not, though. Just saying.”
Elmira is all sweet smiles. “Of course you can say so, sweetheart. But you’d be wrong.”
Thank fuck that right at this moment, a white hurtling object comes careening through the open window. It’s all feathers and clucks, which is either a dove with a bad cold or a chicken. I didn’t think chickens could fly, but this might have been more of a wild leap of faith. The flapping is so frantic that dust and feathers fly everywhere.
I throw my hands over my face and scream while I simultaneously try to calm myself down and debate crawling under the table for cover. All I can do is scream and not move since I’m apparently paralyzed with fear.
“Oh my god, cover its eyes!” Wanda screams. “We’re eating its kind!”
Thaddius’ jaw falls open as he stands and walks to the window. Instead of shooing the bird out, he takes it in his arms and, holy meat pies with extra gravy, was there ever anyone who looked as good holding a chicken as Thaddius does? He could pose for chicken calendars. Mr. Chicken June. I can see it now. “What on earth are you talking about?” he asks his mom, carefully smoothing down ruffled chicken feathers.