Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
I dropped the subject, mainly because I was too tired to dig deeper into it, and partly because I had enough to worry about. I needed to make last-minute changes to her bachelorette party, and I still had to break the Darren news over dinner.
“I’m really happy that you’re here.” She rubbed my arm, we were both small women, but I was tiny. It felt fitting that I was pocket-size, especially as I felt that way whenever Mama was around. “I know you’re busy. You’ve got your life in New York, and I want you to know that I appreciate you coming here. So, so much, Rosie-bug.”
We talked some more before she retreated back to the kitchen. The minute I was alone, I flung my body onto the queen-sized mattress with dozens of fluffy pillows, fished my phone out of the back pocket of my bleached denim skirt, and wrote Dean a message. The first text message I’d ever sent him.
Rosie
Parents and sister don’t know I broke up with Darren. Please don’t say a word. Telling them tonight.
He replied within seconds.
Dean
Shit. Need to cancel that press release I scheduled. That bad over there?
It felt good to be asked a question, knowing he was actually waiting for an answer.
Rosie
The usual LeBlanc shenanigans. You?
Dean
Wolfing down a sandwich while listening to Mom’s town gossip about the new lawn regulations. Living the dream. Call if you need saving.
Rosie
You’re not my superman.
Dean
I’m whatever you need me to be.
Rosie
That was so cheesy, you actually gave me the munchies.
Dean
Funny you should mention munchies, I’m just thinking about how a certain body part of yours would be so much more delicious than my sandwich.
I snorted out an unattractive laugh as my head hit the pillow, then closed my eyes. Sleep came, and so did I, numerous times. In my dreams. My co-star? Dean ‘Ruckus’ Cole.
Dammit.
I WAS A PAMPERED LITTLE shit.
I knew that, acknowledged that, had no fucking problem with that.
The minute I arrived back home, Mom and Dad jumped on me like I was God himself. And to them, I was. I grew up believing the sun was shining directly from my asshole and that I was made of pure gold and chain-orgasms. That was what my helicopter parents drilled into my head, and that was what I eventually grew up to be. They didn’t treat my younger sisters—Payton and Keeley—any differently, and they turned out to be just as successful as I did. Keeley was studying medicine in Maryland, and Payton was a TA at Berkeley University while she worked on her dissertation in something both impressive and forgettable.
What can I say? The Cole parents had good-looking, overachieving kids.
Aside from the fact I depended on alcohol and weed to forget that Nina existed, I was pretty much perfect.
The perfect CEO.
The perfect businessman.
The perfect son.
The perfect lover.
I could probably go on, but what would be the point in that? I was also proficient with great time-management skills.
“Your sandwich, honey, with that special mustard you like from the farmers’ market.” My mom, Helen, pressed her lips to my forehead before she took a seat beside me at the kitchen table. My dad, Eli, sat across from me, a proud smirk on his lips.
We talked work, politics, and local gossip for a while, before Mom looked down and started playing with her pearl necklace over her lemon-hued cardigan.
“Sweetheart, I need to tell you something, and I don’t want you to be mad.”
Naturally, I was already irritated.
I looked up from my sandwich, chewing, as her movements grew more nervous and her throat bobbed.
“Recently…we’ve been in touch with Nina.” Mom smoothed the fabric of her cardigan nervously. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Nina had called Mom, but somehow, I was. Dad took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You can’t turn your back on her, Dean. It’s time we talk about it,” he said.
“There’s nothing to talk about. She’s my business, not yours. What did she want?”
“She’s asked me to convince you to see her.” Mom’s heartrending eyes begged.
“She’s fucking nuts.”
“Dean, language,” my dad scolded me like I was four. Whatever. I’d like to see how his ass would have handled someone like Nina. He had Helen fucking Cole. Someone wonderful and supportive and fucking human. Judging is easy. Dealing with complicated shit, however, not so much.
“Well?” I slouched back in my chair. “Say it, Helen.” I used her first name, which always got to my mom, and she winced.
You’re a grade-A asshole, Ruckus.
“I need to give her a chance, right? She has the right to explain herself. It’s time you meet him. Think of the potential bond. C’mon, I’ve heard it all, but I’m always up for the repeat.”
“It’s not fair to put this all on your mom.” Dad placed his hand over hers. I blinked once.
“Is this fair to me?”