Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
“Mould. You mean mould.”
“It sounds worse when you say it like that.”
My lips twitched. “I’m not sure there is a good way to say you ate partially mouldy bread.”
He reached for his wine glass, then paused. “I suppose you’re right,” he mused, slowly moving to pull a stool beneath him to sit down. “Tell me what happened today.”
“Which part? Where I was almost murdered by a parrot, contemplated throwing myself off a turret, or your grandma and dad arguing over the legality of keeping pet otters?”
William ran his tongue over his lips and nodded slowly. “Start at the beginning. And Chewy is a cockatiel, not a parrot.”
“Well, whatever he is, he’s a little bastard,” I replied. “He dive-bombed me on the stairs calling for the police. Then he spent the entire morning eyeing me up from that palatial cage of his until your sister flipped her shit and threw a blanket over him, only for him to make sirens for the next fifteen minutes until we moved.”
“I get the feeling that wasn’t even close to the worst part of your day.”
“Your sister is practically a terrorist,” I continued. “After we’d contacted all the vendors for her because she was in such a tizz, we got to reviewing what had already been delivered to see if we would need to change any plans at all.”
“Do we?”
“I don’t think so, thankfully, not that it stopped her from freaking out over the napkins being the wrong shade of white.”
He frowned. “There are shades of white?”
“Far too many of them, really, and almost all indiscernible from the next,” I answered. “The napkins are one shade too bright.”
“One shade too bright,” he repeated quietly, scratching the side of his nose. “How on Earth does she know?”
“There were three of us and we couldn’t figure it out, so God knows.”
“Did you try asking Him?”
I balled up the receipt from the pizza bag and threw it at him. “Your grandma tried. We think He was hiding. Lucky Him.”
With a laugh, he put the receipt into the empty bag and smirked at me. “I did warn you what she was like.”
“No, you didn’t. You weren’t that in-depth about it. How was I to know she’d cry over the little name tags you put on the table?”
“She cried over table name tags?”
“They’re too big, apparently.”
“Too big,” he echoed. “At least nobody will miss their name.”
“That’s what your dad said. She almost threw her tea at him.”
“I can imagine.”
“Do you think she’s focusing a bit too much on the wedding and perhaps not quite enough on the marriage?” I asked, gently rocking my wine glass to swill the liquid around.
“Yes.” He didn’t even need to think about it.
“Have you tried mentioning it?”
He laughed, raising his glass up as if he were going to sip from it. “Please, by all means, you tell Freya that. I'll have my phone out to video as she throws tea on you.”
“She won’t throw tea on me.” I rolled my eyes, something I hadn’t done in years... Unless I was taking to Granny. “She likes me.”
“Nobody is exempt from my sister’s wrath. Not even James, and she’s marrying him. You should have seen her when he suggested grey suits instead of black. I thought she was going to have a stroke.” He snorted, raising his eyebrows at me right after. “She’s a monster.”
I pressed my lips together.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to defend her right now.”
“I’m trying to,” I replied slowly. “I’m also... well, I'm failing. It's very difficult.”
“That’s because Freya is difficult. It runs in the family.”
“I’m starting to understand why you needed a date for this weekend.” I sipped my wine. “It’s not about your grandfather trying to set you up with someone, it’s about moral support to deal with your sister.”
William dropped his head back with a deep laugh. “Shit. You’ve rumbled me. How did you figure it out?”
“You’re lucky enough to be fake dating someone who’s pretty and smart.”
“And extraordinarily humble.”
“Of course. It’s my third best quality.”
“Let me guess; right after pretty and smart?”
“No, my humour and my arse.”
He stopped, staring at me with his dark brown eyes, then dropped his chin to his chest, hiding his face behind his hands, and burst out laughing again. His entire body shook with the rumble of every single chuckle, and I had to raise my glass to my lips to stop myself from doing the same.
“You’re going to burn the pizza,” I said breezily, looking at the oven. “And if you burn a frozen pizza, I will lose all respect for you.”
Still laughing, he got up and walked over to the oven, opening the door to peek inside. “It needs a few more minutes.”
“Like you and your giggles.”
“I don’t giggle,” William grumbled.
“You just did.”
“That wasn’t a giggle.”
“It was a giggle,” I argued, tapping my nails against the countertop.