Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
The woman behind the check-in smiles tiredly. “Of course. Would a hotel notepad work?”
“That’s great.” I accept the small Shufflebottoms’ pad she hands over and a pen and cross to the couches by the fireplace.
I’ve just settled into a plush couch close enough to the flames that my cheeks instantly feel warmer—intending to start with a few “pro” Derrick items to take the edge off the fear inspired by the thought of losing Evie—when the sound of a man and woman arguing drifts down the hallway leading to the east wing.
The voices sound awfully familiar…
I sink lower on the couch and pull my sweater’s hoodie up over my head, hoping to avoid detection by whichever Raine duo is up shouting at each other this early in the morning. I’m honestly expecting my parents—they’re always up at the butt crack of dawn, swilling coffee and arguing about everything they have to do that day—but it’s not Donald and Gina.
It’s Lauren and Chuck.
And Chuck’s got his big, army-surplus duffle bag slung over his shoulder…
“You can’t leave now,” my sister says as they stop beside the Christmas tree half a dozen yards away.
I sink even lower in the couch and tuck my chin to my chest, really not wanting to be spotted now. Lauren will be mortified if she knows I saw her fighting with Chuck, after she’s worked so hard to convince all of us that she and her slacker husband have the perfect relationship.
“You just got here last night,” she continues. “You’ve only seen the kids for a few hours.”
“I’ll see them tomorrow afternoon when you guys get home,” Chuck says, looking like he’d rather bolt than stay and fight with his wife.
His eyes keep darting to the large, sliding glass entrance doors and the chilly-looking valet standing stiffly by the desk outside, but he doesn’t make a run for it. He sets his duffle on the ground and takes Lauren’s hand. “You know I love hanging out with you and the kids, but I’m swamped at work. I need to catch up on invoices before I drown in ’em, babe.”
“I did all the invoicing last week,” Lauren says, pulling her hand from his and crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “There’s no way you could be behind already. What is this really about? Why did you even come all the way up here if you were only planning to stay a night and then run off the next morning?”
“Because I knew you’d have a cow if I didn’t,” Chuck says, making me wrinkle my nose.
Have a cow? Who says that anymore?
I’m pretty sure that phrase was uncool by the time he was born.
“I’m not having a cow,” Lauren says, her voice pitching up. “I’m disappointed. And embarrassed. What is my family going to think when they show up for breakfast and you’re already gone?”
Chuck lets out a frustrated breath. “They’ll think I’m working hard for my family. Just like your dad’s always nagging me to do.”
“Are you working hard for us?” Lauren presses, making me proud of her. She’s usually so eager to accept Chuck’s lame excuses, but she’s definitely putting the screws to him this morning. “You aren’t doing the invoices. I know that because I’ve already done them. Paul and Rafe are handling all the service visits on the schedule, and Bobby said he’d be on call in case of emergencies so we could have family time. What on earth do you need to rush back to Jersey for? Especially without telling me. And don’t even pretend you weren’t trying to sneak out without waking me, Chuck. I know your guilty face.”
“I just…” He rakes a hand through his spiky dark brown hair, his entire posture perking up as his old red pickup truck pulls up in front of the hotel, driven by the other valet on duty. He snatches his pack from the ground, swinging it over his shoulder. “I’ve got to go. The truck’s here.”
Lauren shakes her head. “No, we’re going to finish this conversation. The truck can wait. There’s nobody else trying to get their car at the butt crack of dawn, and I need an answer from you. A real answer.” Her brow furrows before she adds in a softer voice, “Do you really hate spending time with me and the kids that much?”
“I’m just tired, Lore,” he says, his shoulders creeping toward his ears again. “Keith never sleeps, and the girls are always going ninety miles an hour. Sometimes I just want some time for me, you know? Time to be a guy. I’m only twenty-eight fucking years old.”
“And I’m twenty-seven,” Lauren says, tears now streaming silently down her cheeks. “And I take care of the kids all day while you’re at work and work from home. I’m the one who should want ‘me’ time, but I don’t. I just want you to love me like you used to. Before.”