Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Hm.
I see Bryn’s point has more and more merit than I initially realized.
“She didn’t sleep rightskies for weeks,” Jenni mutters behind her hand to the unintroduced woman I am assuming is the PR rep for the charity we’re partnered with.
“Now, tell me Boobs Clues that you were more discreet than your messed up mascara is implying.”
“I won’t lie to you…” Bryn delivers a small tap to Evie’s chest using the edge of her bag. “However, I will pretend I didn’t hear you as the best solution for this lose, lose situation.”
Jenni poorly hides her snickers behind her hand prompting me to rise to my feet and declare from a distance, “Our conversation is far from over, Mrs. Wilcox.”
The emotionless expression I’m thrown in return mercilessly churns my stomach. “No.” Despite the lack of change on her face, there’s no denying it can be found in her tone. “Our conversation has been over, Mr. Wilcox.”
Chapter 2
Brynley
Yeah.
I’m that mom.
And I gonna blame my mom for me being that mom because she was this mom.
In fact, technically she still is.
Except now her lack of sympathy involving swings is more adult based.
But like how I was supposed to know I was too heavy for the fucking thing?!
I mean…yeah, I’ve kept a little extra weight since Wy was born – my tits look even more amazing now – but it isn’t like an extra fifty pounds!
There’s no reason that flimsy contraption should’ve broken after one use.
I was so pissed that I tried to call Wilcox headquarters to see about buying the shitty sex toy company just to fire everyone involved in its design, which totally made me look like a power-hungry monster when really I was just a sexually frustrated new mom fresh out of that uncomfortable headspace where I not only didn’t feel attractive, I really did worry that my husband would start sleeping with our very young – albeit slightly airheaded – nanny.
He hasn’t.
He wouldn’t.
She wouldn’t.
Not because she has an aversion to older men but because he’s not old enough unlike Lurch who I would bet my Next Gen 3-D chessboard that J.T. got me as a wedding gift that she’s banging during Wy’s naps.
“On your ass, Little Fins, or you will fall,” I scold at the same time I point to where my butt is wedged into the swing seat.
Pretty sure this shit is more comfortable for him than it is me.
He should have no fucking complaints about sitting like this.
These damn things were literally made for people his size.
“Bottom,” the nearby woman that’s poorly encouraging her frightened child to venture down the slide chastises.
There’s no hesitation to flash her my middle finger along with a bitter smirk.
She scoffs loudly, clutches her chest in shock, and sends her attention back to the tiny troll she’s calling her son, most likely pre-writing in her head what to post all over social media about me as well as my parenting skills.
Or…lack thereof.
Swallowing my groans of frustration doesn’t exactly go according to plan which results in snarling sounds slipping free.
“Monder,” Wy loudly belittles from beside me, shit eating grin growing obnoxiously brighter.
I am not a monster.
Despite my inability to do anything right in the media – eat a bagel, wear a cocktail dress, play with my son – I am not a fucking Romulan. Sure, I refuse to bury my emotions and completely play the doting, perfect socialite wife who has no life outside of the last name she married into, but that doesn’t make me some sci-fi villain never to be appreciated for doing her goddamn best.
And I am doing my best.
It’s not easy being head of an entire division at The Bower and Powell Aquatic Institute regardless of the fact I’m now – technically – one of the organization’s biggest donors.
I actually think it makes it fucking harder.
I know exactly where the funding is going.
Who isn’t doing their part to ensure the money that’s being invested isn’t wasted on useless director retreats and holiday bonuses for people who can’t even name one creature we helped rescue for the year.
Raquel sucked at her job.
She sucked even more than I originally thought, which is why from the time I sat in her chair until the day I popped – literally my water broke while I was feeding Bruce – I worked my ass off to fix the nightmare she didn’t blink twice at.
Not to mention the fact I had to hire a new R&R team since I took her job and Calen moved to K&T where he eventually became one of their marine vets.
I somehow got all that shit in order, had the wedding of the year – it was literally voted that by Outside the Lines magazine – showed up for every charity event we were summoned to, kept up with couples therapy, and gave birth to a beautiful eight pound and two-ounce baby boy, yet most of the shit printed about me were my flaws.