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)
“Something smells good.” Joey smiles up at me.
I’d give anything to be able to kiss her. “Just spaghetti and meatballs. I need to pop this into the oven.” I grab the baking sheet that holds the garlic bread.
“Thanks for cooking. It was my night,” she reminds me.
“You took her night?” Caleb blurts.
I shrug, playing it off. “Yeah, I thought maybe she might have good news about the job, and it wouldn’t be fair for her to have to make dinner after that.”
“We could have ordered something.” He points out the obvious.
What I can’t say is that I wanted to make dinner for her to celebrate. That’s what a good boyfriend, training to be a husband, would do, but I clamp my mouth shut. I count to five before I reply. “It’s not a big deal. You get my night tomorrow,” I tell Joey.
“Fine.” She sighs as if it’s a big inconvenience. I know she’s putting on a show. I just hate that we have to.
The words are on the tip of my tongue. I want to blurt them out. Confess to Caleb that I love her, and my world revolves around her. He can’t be mad about that, right? I mean, come on. I’m his best friend. Pulling out of my thoughts, I focus on not looking at Joey and stirring the spaghetti. Anything to keep me busy so that Caleb will stop giving me those looks.
Finally, the timer dings alerting us that the bread is done. I continue to look busy, wiping down the counter while they make their plates. Finally, once they are seated, I make my own, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and join them at the table. I avoid eye contact, knowing I’ve fucked up enough tonight. I’ve lasted this long. I can handle a couple more days.
With my fork, I pierce a meatball, and it’s almost to my mouth when Joey blurts, “I have to tell you something.”
Immediately I drop my fork to my plate and glance over at her. She’s not looking at me, though; she’s looking at her brother.
“Is this about that dickhead boss of yours?” Caleb asks, sitting up straighter in his chair, his own food now forgotten on the plate in front of him.
“No. It’s something else. Something I didn’t tell you when it happened.” She worries her bottom lip, and it takes everything I have not to reach across the table for her hand.
“Before I tell you, I want you to promise that you won’t get mad and fly off the handle.”
“I can’t do that. I don’t even know what this is about. No dice, sister. Spill the beans.” He makes a motion gesture with his hand, telling her to get on with her confession.
I will her to look at me, so I can give her a smile of encouragement or at least a nod, but her eyes are locked on her brother’s. “Brock and I are dating.” Her words spill out, and even though it’s like ripping off a Band-Aid, I feel nothing but relief that the truth is out there. That I can hold her and kiss her anytime that I want.
“Repeat that?” Caleb shakes his head.
“You heard me, Caleb. Brock and I are dating.” She finally looks across the table at me, and her eyes soften. “I’m in love with him.”
“I love you too,” I tell her, because I can’t not. When the love of your life says the words, you say them back.
Caleb looks across the table at me and then back to his sister, who is sitting in the seat next to him, much to my dismay. “You”—he points at Joey—“and you.” He points at me. “Are dating?”
“Yes,” we say in unison.
He shakes his head as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “How long?”
“We’ve been dancing around it since the day I got here,” Joey confesses.
“Fuck!” Caleb’s chair screeches against the hardwood floor as he pushes back from the table. “Months?” he asks, running his fingers through his hair as he begins to pace the dining room.
“Yes.” Again, we reply at the same time. It’s almost been two but feels like a lifetime yet still not long enough.
He mumbles something I can’t decipher under his breath when he all of a sudden stops pacing and turns his glare my way. “My baby sister? Really, Williams? She’s my fucking sister!” he roars. He turns to Joey. “And you. In my own home? How dare you?” he asks, his voice raised in anger.
“I know that. She’s also the woman I love, so I would appreciate it if you could keep all that anger pointed this way.”
“You—” He points his finger at me as he steps closer. “Don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“If it comes to Joey and her being upset, then damn right I do.”