Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“Your hair is so pretty!” Charlie cries when she steps back. My God, this is like conversing with a flower.
Janet, who had been talking to Jake and Ray, turns to us. “Charlotte wanted to color her hair in high school. I said absolutely not.”
“Actually, Mom, you said if I got straight A’s, I could do it.”
Janet smiles tightly. “Exactly.” Welp, there it is. She turns her laser focus to me. “How do your professors react to your hair?”
I feel West’s hand settle on my lower back. “I mean,” I say self-consciously as all other conversation halts and every eye is on me now. “I’m sure they like it but are probably more impressed with my amazing doctor skills.”
West’s fingers flex against my back in response to this, and yes, Mr. Perfect, I realize that sounded idiotic. I want to stomp hard on his big, stupid foot. If he’s going to judge how I fake-doctor this, then maybe he should have given me a different job.
“How was Cambodia?” Charlie asks in a low, reverent voice. Every member of the Weston family waits for my answer.
“So humid.” I pause, and in the silence realize that this isn’t exactly what Charlie meant. “Oh, but there were also, like, a lot of broken bones?”
Oh God.
Alex frowns, decides to speak. “Bones, specifically?”
West’s hand does the flexing thing again.
“Right,” I say. “Well, I was helping in a clinic near a bridge. Without rails. A lot of people fell off.”
Janet gasps. “Dear God, that’s horrible!”
I shrug, smiling. “But good for business, I guess!”
The circle falls deathly silent. West drowns himself in his whiskey.
“Medical humor.” God, this is a train wreck. “Wrong crowd. Hey, did you hear that West—Liam—is training for a triathlon?”
At least, he looks like he is, and his physique is the first thing that popped into my head. That shower really destroyed me.
“Is that right?” Ray asks, turning his focus to his son. “We gonna race?”
Hand flex. Heavy sigh near my ear. “We—” Another sigh, and I feel a pang of victory even though I’ve clearly said something wrong. How does it feel to have to play along, Dr. Weston! “Dad, we could just run. It doesn’t have to be a—”
“Meet me at sunrise tomorrow.” Ray says, eyes like laser beams. “We can race to the black beach and back.”
West drops his hand from my back. He’s given up. “We’ll see.”
Ray laughs. “Come on. Play with the big kids this week, Liam.”
“It’s vacation, Dad, I’m not setting an alarm.”
“Look at this fucking academic!” Ray crows. “What kind of man needs to set an alarm?”
“I’ve never needed an alarm,” Alex cuts in. “Up with the sun even after a late night at the office. Nothing to be embarrassed about, Liam. You probably just need more sleep than the average man.”
West doesn’t rise to the bait, but a muscle in his jaw clenches repeatedly. I, however, am not here for the recreational dragging.
“It’s unlikely,” I say, and every head turns my way. “Everyone needs seven to nine hours of sleep a night. You can try to convince yourself you don’t need more, but over time you’ll build up a sleep debt. It probably affects your mental and physical health more than you realize, Alex.”
Thank you, Psychology Today. On newsstands six times a year.
Ray laughs, delighted, but Alex’s gaze intensifies. “Yeah, no, I think I’m good with four hours.”
I smile up at West. “Being well rested is good for your mind and body, isn’t that right?” I wiggle my eyebrows and he stares down at me, fighting a smile.
Jake snorts into his empty glass but at least Charlie is with me. “I’m going to start going to bed earlier,” she says with sweet worship. “I agree we all spend too much time talking about how busy we are and not enough time taking care of ourselves!”
“Do less, but better,” I say, raising my drink to her.
Her jaw drops and she stares at me with worship. “Less, but better! Oh my God, that’s so inspirational!”
“Jesus Christ, this generation,” Ray mumbles, and puts a hand on West’s shoulder, turning him. Ray tilts his head, indicating the rest of the room. “Has the Forbes guy found you yet?”
West frowns, and it’s clear he would rather be at the top of an active volcano than right here. “Not yet, no.”
“Make some time for him this week,” Ray says. “His name’s Ellis. Good guy. I told him I’d give him a little time every day, but let’s be real: that’s top-tier access. Some of that time you all can take for me.”
“On it,” Alex chirps.
But Ray keeps his eyes steadily on West. “Tell him about the company. The growth I created after Pops died. You know.”
West lifts his drink to his lips. He hasn’t agreed to do anything, but I don’t think Ray’s noticed.