Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Plus, if I hold my finger up just right, I can completely block Gisele out of the image.
I’m so lost in picking apart the photo I don’t even glance down at the screen when my phone starts ringing. “Hello?”
“Josephine.”
I close my eyes, chastising myself for the stupid error. Why didn’t I check the caller ID? Is it too late to pretend it was my voice mail picking up? Or maybe I’m headed through a tunnel and my call drops?
“I hear you breathing, sweetheart,” he says, as if he can hear my thoughts.
I sigh, realizing I’m stuck now. “Hi, Dad. How are you?”
“I’d be a lot better if I didn’t have to learn from my son that my daughter is in town for a visit.”
Caleb. That backstabbing weasel. “I haven’t been here long, I swear.”
“Well, I’m happy for that. I’d hate to think my only daughter was avoiding me,” he replies with a boisterous laugh, making me cringe.
Good thing he can’t see my reaction or he’d know I was doing just that. “How are things going?”
“Excellent. Listen, I’m heading into a meeting with the GM. Meet me at Sully’s tonight at seven. I’ve already made the reservation.”
And by that, he means he had his assistant do it.
“I’m not sure what our plans are,” I mutter, knowing it’s pointless. My dad doesn’t hear the word no too often, especially from one of his kids.
“I expect you to be there at seven, Josephine Grace. Tell your brother to come. And the new tight end. My understanding is he’s there too. I’ll have Marcy change the reservation to five. I’m sure Candi will be able to adjust her schedule.”
Great. That means my new stepmom, or as I like to refer to her as wife number four, is going too. I’ve only met her twice in the eight months she’s been married to my dad, but Candi—with an I, as she repeatedly said throughout our first meeting—is exactly half his age. Yep. Wife number four just so happens to be right smack dab in the middle of Caleb and me on the family age chart. Two years older than me, and two years younger than my brother.
Isn’t that something special to announce at Christmas dinner?
That’s exactly when I found out last December. Right before she shared the names of popular Instagram influencers over our glazed ham, sure to help me learn how to contour my unruly eyebrows.
Yay me.
“Can’t wait,” I reply, trying to sound upbeat and chipper about tonight’s impending doom we’ll call family dinner.
“Excellent. See you there. Oh, and wear something nice. You know how the dress code is at Sully’s.” He doesn’t say goodbye, just hangs up the phone. Heaven forbid he take point two seconds to properly sign off.
With another dramatic sigh, I set my phone down on the bed beside me and flop back. Wear something nice? I didn’t exactly pack for a fancy dinner out at Sully’s when I threw random shit into my luggage and took off for my brother’s house.
Hermione makes her presence known, jumping up on the bed and rubbing against my arm. She plops down in the same theatrical fashion I did moments ago and purrs, begging me to pet her.
“I have to go buy a dress, Hermione. I hate shopping,” I mutter to my cat as I rub my hand over her soft hair.
She meows, and I’m pretty sure, if she could actually speak, she just told me to get over it and go. My cat has a way with words like that.
“Fine, I’m going,” I mumble, making no move to get up.
But first, I’ll just pet my kitty for a few more minutes.
An hour later, I’ve dragged my feet long enough, trying to avoid the inevitable. If I don’t go now, I’ll be late getting back to the house. Late getting ready. Late to dinner. Usually, that wouldn’t bother me much, but the last thing I want is for my dad to chastise and humiliate me in front of wife number four, who will probably share great Instagram influencers who can help me work on my tardiness problem, and my brother.
And Brock.
Keys in hand, I head for the front door. Just as I’m about to reach for the handle, the door flies open and in walk the guys. Suddenly, I wish I had been a little quicker in my departure.
“Hey, where you off to?” Caleb asks.
“What? Nowhere,” I argue.
He glances down, clearly spotting the keys in my hand, and arches an eyebrow in question. “Nowhere? Just taking your keys for a walk?” he jokes, tossing his own keys onto the couch.
I place my hands on my hips and give him my best glare. “Well, if you must know, because of you, I’m having dinner with our father and wife number four.”
My brother has the audacity to look a little embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry about that. He caught me off guard, and I guess I hadn’t realized he didn’t know you were here.”