Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Message? What message requires a flipping penguin?
“Oh my God! No way.” Maisy laughs, squeezing my arm like she’ll tear it off if I say no.
But I doubt I’ll ever see anything like this again, so...
I lean up on my toes, looking over the man’s shoulder for any sign of Brock. I don’t see him, but there’s a familiar black SUV parked on the curb. He’s out there, no doubt watching everything.
“Fine. The penguin can come in,” I say with a sigh.
I hope this isn’t the world’s cutest Trojan horse.
But I’d be the most frigid bitch in the world if I didn’t break into a giddy smile, watching the funny creature waddle into our house. I don’t notice there’s something stuck to his flipper until the penguin holds it up.
Another envelope. What else?
I grit my teeth as I peel it off and say, “Thanks, Takishido.”
The penguin follows Maisy around the living room while I tear it open, too stunned to even breathe.
Piper,
You’ll never know how many strings I had to pull to bring you a rare bird you’ve never seen this close.
If you still won’t talk to me, then I hope like hell you’ll hang on to these tickets. I owe the city council bribes for their next four reelections so they’d look the other way with a penguin on a public street. Bring Maisy on the adventure of her life if you won’t go with me.
-Frozen Without You
Behind the note, two thick tickets fall out for a luxury cruise to Antarctica, complete with guided penguin sightings. By the time I collapse in Dad’s worn recliner, I’m crying.
The penguin waddles in front of me and tilts his head up again, belting out a sympathetic squeak.
Yep, it’s official.
I’m never, ever living this down.
Maisy rubs my shoulders while I laugh and cry and smile so brokenly at the unreal sight traipsing around our living room until the owner man lures him outside with a fish.
“Pippy? You’re going to talk to him, right?” Maisy whispers, grabbing my hand.
I’m reeling too hard to answer.
Right now, I’m not even sure I’ll ever be able to speak, much less make up with a man who’s getting way too good at groveling his heart out.
Maisy appears at my door the next day with more flowers.
“Leave them in the kitchen,” I yell through the door before she even knocks.
“Can’t! Dad says there are so many hanging around he can’t taste his breakfast through the smell. He’s also mad he missed the penguin.” She laughs.
Ouch. The last thing I want is a perfumed reminder of Brock Winthrope’s assholery in my room.
Luckily, Maisy pitches in to help. It takes us half an hour to relocate the plants. Even with a few more packed up to drop off at the community garden, my bedroom turns into a green room and smells sweeter than a candy shop.
Maisy looks around and snickers. “Oh my God, he’s trying so hard.”
“And failing miserably,” I say.
“Pippa, I think he cares about you...”
My jaw clenches. “Enough to send gifts. But I don’t want any of this stuff, and honestly, sending me plane tickets just feels like being told where to go again.”
“Girl, what do you want? He gave you a note by penguin.”
I look at her slowly and sigh. “I just want him to love me and I want him to say it.”
“You don’t think he does?” Disbelief rings in her voice.
“Not enough to tell me.”
“Holy shit, is this how it is? High school is so much easier. If any boy started showering me with trips to these magical places and exotic birds, I’d assume he was madly in love with me and—”
“Yeah? What boy would that be?”
“Um. Never mind.” Maisy goes bright red and runs for my door. “I’ll tell him to buzz off if he shows his face again. Later!”
I laugh.
An hour later, after I’m cleaned up and hacking away at the job listings again, Dad leans into my room, watching me.
“You can come in and sit like a normal person,” I say, looking over my shoulder.
“Sorry, Piper. Just wondering how you’re doing besides the obvious.” He steps inside and surveys my room. “Damn. Haven’t seen this many flowers since the superbloom on Rainier in ’88. You’ve got yourself a Romeo.”
“Don’t worry, I’m still finding homes for these. They won’t keep stinking up the house.”
“That’s not my point, girl. And keep a few.”
“I don’t want them, and since you’ve outlawed flowers in the rest of the house...” I shrug.
“Tell me one thing,” Dad says, sinking down on my bed. “Just how long are you gonna make this boy suffer?”
I narrow my eyes.
“Dad, I’m just defending myself, okay? He doesn’t get it, and he’s not going to. He just needs to go find some new debutante and leave me the hell alone. Why are you taking his side?”