Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“And my wellies!” Polly retorts indignantly.
I press my hand to my mouth, trying hard not to laugh. This afternoon has been the best. Sure, I’ve had to loosen the button to my jeans because I’ve eaten way more than I ordinarily would, but it was all so delicious, I couldn’t help myself! Tender, pink roast beef with a dollop of a horseradish condiment hot enough to clear anyone’s sinuses. Honey glazed carrots and parsnips and crispy roast potatoes with insides so fluffy they sort of melted in my mouth. Sprouts are usually a big no thanks for me, but cooked with pancetta, chestnuts, and parmesan? So yum! I’m fit to burst—who even knew cauliflower cheese was a thing? It’s like a gooey, cheesy religious experience.
Whit’s siblings are such a hoot. The dynamic is so cool to watch. Like how his mom just handed him the wine without even looking at him? Things obviously just get deferred to him. Must be that Daddy energy. They all tease Polly mercilessly, but no one seems to think to dish any nonsense Whit’s way. Well, I guess that’s not strictly true, but they seem to respect him. Though I get the impression they’d rather swallow glass than admit it. I’m so glad I came, even if I don’t exactly feel good lying to these lovely people.
It’s been a big weekend. A great weekend, but a lot to take in. Literally, in some aspects. But tomorrow, we all go back to work. Noses to the grindstone, back to everyday life. Whit already made his feelings clear; work is work, he said. No shenanigans in the office. Maybe. Who knows? I might contrive to get him in the supply closet again. But at least we’ll both have our own space soon enough, once this crazy bomb business is over. Meanwhile, I’m just loving seeing this relaxed, slightly goofy, family side of him.
“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone,” Primrose announces dramatically before grinning in Brin’s direction. “Don’t forget how Lavender and I caught you snogging Priya from next door in the tree house.”
“My God,” Lavender huffs. She seems to be the only family member who hasn’t warmed to me. Then again, she doesn’t seem to have a preference for anyone. Slumped in her chair, she twirls the stem of her barely touched glass of wine. “Don’t remind me. I think I should’ve had therapy after that.”
“What?” Brin protests. “We were just kids. There was no inappropriate groping. Well, it was all over the shirt, not under.”
“What base is that, Mimi?” I find Whit’s eyes on me, dancing darkly.
“Base?” I don’t dare look, but I’m pretty sure Primrose’s gaze darts between him and me. “Like teenagers on American TV shows, you mean?”
“Asinine,” Lavender mutters, slinking farther down in her chair.
“Yes, let’s not ever be entertained.” Prim’s reply sounds like the rolling of eyes. “First base is snogging, right, Mimi?”
“Go on, Mimi,” Brin encourages. “You’re our resident expert.”
“Snogging is kissing, right?” prompts Prim.
I can literally feel my shoulders folding inward with embarrassment. This is not the kind of attention I like.
“Yeah, snogging, necking,” El says, joining in
“Copping off,” is Brin’s inclusion.
“Tonsil tennis.” Now it’s Primrose’s turn.
“I always liked smooching myself,” Polly offers.
“No need to tell us that,” Whit murmurs, earning him a slap to his arm. “Go on, Lavender, you have a go.”
Lavender’s eyes flick up, and just when I think she’s about to tell him where to go, she utters, “Sucking face.”
“Eww, but also, good one!” Primrose could literally outsunshine me!
“I suppose that just leaves me and you,” Heather says, turning to her husband.
“We could always go for a demonstration,” he answers, leaning closer only to find the meat of Heather’s palm in the middle of his forehead.
“Not happening,” she sing-songs. “Canoodling,” she adds, turning to the gallery of her siblings. “Your turn, husbot.”
“Swapping spit,” he answers with an unrepentant grin.
“Well, they all sound like making out,” I agree, then give a tiny shrug. “Some nicer than others, but all are first base, I guess.”
“What base constitutes a little over the shirt action, then?” Whit toys with the stem of his wineglass and the look he’s wearing makes me want to melt in my chair.
“I feel like they’ve had this conversation before,” Prim says with a quiet chuckle.
“Purely in the interests of US-British relations, right, Mimi?” If you’d just stop purring your words, Whit, people might not be so suspicious.
“Second base,” I rush on, finding I have to swallow over my suddenly swollen tonsils, “is action all above the waist.”
“Under the shirt or over?” Brin asks. “See, snogging Priya was strictly over.” He makes a grabbing motion with his hand, throwing in a honking sound just for laughs.
Lavender isn’t so amused and makes a disgusted noise. “No wonder Priya changed her pronouns.”
“She did?” Brin seems surprised.