Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
“Yeah?” My brother’s gaze slides my way. “Is he up for the job?”
“Yeah.” There goes that fur ball again. I clear my throat and try for a second time. “Yes, he is.”
From across the room, Raif’s smile feels like sunshine on my skin.
“She might’ve passed the baton to you,” Whit says, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t be watching.”
“Got it.” Raif nods just once but with such gravitas. My cheeks begin to tingle, and God help me, that’s not the only place I find that reaction as I glance down at my lap.
Good thing it doesn’t come with flashing lights.
“You okay, princess?” he asks, not giving a fuck about my brother’s incredulous huff.
I nod quickly. “I’m fine.” More than fine. Whit’s not my dad, but he loves me. And Raif is not my daddy, but he’s throwing out solid daddy vibes with that whole cherishing, authoritative, she’s-my-responsibility thing.
Oof. That is tickling my metaphoric pickle. But sadly, I find I must shake that shit right out of my head because I once walked into Whit’s office to hear Mimi whisper, “Daddy, you make it hurt so good.”
I’d needed brain bleach.
Daddy kink can’t be our thing as well.
“I’ll leave you guys to it.” Raif begins to turn in the direction of the kitchen. The nook isn’t a thoroughfare—I know he was just checking up on me.
“We’re done here,” Whit says, closing his laptop.
“Then come join us in the basement. The kids are swimming.”
“But they don’t have their bathing suits.”
“It wasn’t a planned swim.” Raif’s mouth curls in one corner.
“Gus pushed Belle in, didn’t he.” Not a question as my brother’s lips flatten. “That kid will be the death of me.”
“You survived me,” I say, standing and crossing to my husband and sliding my arms around his waist. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
Whit’s head whips up. “You know, I hadn’t considered who he took after before, but now I see it. He’s a mini Lavender.”
“Then he’s a lucky kid.” Raif hooks his arm around my shoulders. “My wife is the best.”
40
RAIF
My chin rests on Lavender’s shoulders, my arms around her waist as she and Daisy wave at Whit’s Bentley as it pulls out of the gates.
“Glad that’s over?” I ask as the car disappears into the street.
“Yeah.” She rests her arms over mine. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Can I have some ice cream?” Daisy asks, canting her head Lavender’s way.
“Sure.”
“Yes!” Her damp ponytail slaps her back as she fist-pumps the air and spins on her heel. “I’ll get the spoons!”
“Uncle Raif will get the dishes,” Lavender teases.
“I like Mimi,” I say as we turn, following Daisy into the house.
“Mimi’s great,” she agrees.
“Your brother is… an interesting character.”
“Interesting. That’s one way to put it.”
“Yeah, but Mimi is the one who offered to buy me hash brownies instead of a birthday cake.”
“When?” I ask with a laugh.
“When she was Whit’s PA. I think it was a miscommunication. Something he’d said, and she thought he was serious. Serves him right that he left her to book a restaurant for my birthday.”
“Why? What’s wrong with that?”
“She booked a vegetarian place. Oh, the complaints from my meat-eating brethren.”
“And the cake?” I ask, amused.
“She ordered something from a fancy hotel. I tried cannabis once, but it didn’t agree with me.” Lavender inhales deeply, her next words spilling suspiciously carelessly. “I have high-functioning anxiety. It seems the two don’t mix. At least, not with me.”
My hand tightens on hers, and I tug, making her slow. “Tell me what that feels like,” I ask softly, settling my hands on her waist.
“I’m like a duck on a pond. Calm on the surface, but under the waterline, my mind’s paddling like hell, spinning off in a thousand directions. Worrying about the irrelevant and putting ridiculous pressure on myself.”
“Princess, you’re a motherfucking swan, not a duck. Fierce. A warrior.”
“Yeah, but I’m mostly fighting myself,” she says with an unhappy laugh.
“You know what your brother told me? He said you are unstoppable, that you always have been.”
“Really?”
“Yep. He said a prime example was when you were little. That you wanted to learn to ride your bike without training wheels.”
“Oh, I know this story.”
“Did you ever take note of the respect in his tone?”
She pulls a face. So no.
“He explained there was so much going on at home that you were told next weekend for a while.”
“Big families. Not enough parents.” She scrunches her nose again. “You can’t take a ticket like you might at the deli because someone older or with a more pressing need jumps the queue.”
“But not you. Whit says you went into the shed, jimmied open your dad’s toolbox—he said the lid was probably as heavy as you.”
She laughs again. “Yeah, then I tried half a dozen tools. Cut my finger, too.”
“But you managed to take those training wheels off, didn’t you?”
“Of course.”
She says this like it’s obvious. Like other kids wouldn’t have given up.