Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
It was all so ordinary.
I lay there for a few more minutes before reaching up. I took the towels off my eyes, blinking a few times, and the pain was relatively gone, though I did have a minor headache starting. However, the smell of whatever she was making reached my nostrils, and I looked over the couch at her, seeing her tasting her sauce on a wooden spoon. I assumed it was to her liking because she grinned and took out her phone again, reading. Then she grabbed the vegetables we had bought, put them into the pot, and finally turned a knob on the stove. With each step, each move, my eyes followed her. She was really...something different.
“Okay, a few more minutes, and we can eat—you’re up.” She looked surprised, stepping over to me. “How are your eyes?”
“Happy to see you.” The words just slipped out.
“That’s more like you. You hadn’t said anything cheesy in a few hours, so I was starting to get worried.”
I had a reply, but I let it go. Be friends, Gale. I was going to try to be her friend first. “Do you need help with anything else?”
“No, don’t help. I don’t want you to get anything else in your eyes, or worse, cut a finger. Iskandar here might lose it,” she teased him.
He frowned into his book, looking away from us both.
“Do not worry. I will protect you.” I snickered, looking back to her. “I am enjoying being so normal.”
“Fine, you can help me set the table and bring out the food,” she said.
“That I am sure I can manage!”
He looked so relaxed.
So...normal.
Like any other guy around my mom’s dining table. A table we only ever used when people came over. Most times, we just ate in front of the television. Even on Thanksgiving and Christmas, we would spend our mornings and afternoons at fundraisers or charity events and then come back and eat while watching some sappy drama.
Yet here he was, just being a guy at dinner, talking, eating, joking. But I noticed he was no longer trying to hit on me. It kind of bothered me. It also bothered me that I had no idea what had happened while I was gone. However, I pushed those thoughts down and tried to focus on all the stories that were going around. My mom was doing her best to once again embarrass me, telling Gale every horrible story of my childhood. Luckily, Wolfgang and Iskandar had a few of his to share as well.
It felt like Thanksgiving came early this year.
“Odette, why don’t you take Gale to the study to see your old photos and trophies while we clean up,” my mother said with a wink and a nod. Her setup was clear to everyone at the table, which was why Wolfgang was already rising from his chair, leaning over to take Gale’s plate.
But Gale picked it up instead. “Ms. W—Wilhelmina, it is fine. I want to clean up, too.”
“You both did the shopping and the cooking, so the least we can do is clean. Iskandar, pick up a plate,” she directed Iskandar, who looked at her for a moment. She gave him a look, and he got up, taking Gale’s plate from his hand.
“Odette, go on.” She pushed with her eyes saying, if you do not take him in there, young lady, I will hurt you.
“It’s fine, really,” Gale interjected.
Did he not want to go with me? “Come on. She will keep giving me the evil eye until we go.”
It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. He walked around and followed me through the dining room into the hall and across from the stairs where I slid open the study door. It was not used to study but to showcase all of the awards she and I had received, along with photos and teddy bears.
“Wow,” he exclaimed, stepping inside.
“Yep. Welcome to my mother’s shrine.” Some parents displayed their kid’s drawings or college diplomas. My mother had all my little tiaras, wands, tutus, sashes, and photo shoots.
“Little Miss Sunrise and Little Miss Moonshine?” he said with a grin, reading the sashes draped over a velvet pillow. “Did you win Little Miss Star, too?”
I pointed behind him. “I won the Brightest Little Star at nine months.”
He looked at it in shock. “There are competitions for infants, too?”
“Yep, and it’s serious. Like my mom says, not every baby is cute.” I shook my head. “I always wondered how in the world she convinced my father to put me through all of that.”
“He probably let it happen because it made her so happy. Look at her smile with you.” He pointed to the photo of me as a baby wearing my little tiara and her with her crown.
We were in matching dresses and smiling like they glued the sides of our faces up.