Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“Howard,” I remind him with a grind of my jaw, unable to apologize and unable to explain.
Face hard, he points toward the closed dining room doors. “He’s in the dining room.”
The fuck?
“He’s sitting in the dining room by himself?” I question. “And you don’t find this a little weird?”
He slaps a hand against my back, the force of it pushing me forward on my feet. “Just go say hi. And be nice, for fuck’s sake.”
“You know what?” I toss out and plant myself on one of the barstools. “Never mind. I’ll chill here.”
I’m not in the mood to meet new people. Hell, I’m not even in the mood to see the people I know.
“Get off your ass and go say hi to Mom’s boyfriend.” Rem grabs me by the back of the shirt and yanks me off the chair.
“What is your fucking deal, man?” I practically shout, but when I look behind me in preparation for my mother’s disapproval, she doesn’t even look up from the pan of asparagus she’s shaking salt onto.
Am I invisible?
My outburst doesn’t deter my eldest brother, though. With a hand to my back, he pushes me toward the dining room until I skid to a stop in front of the doors.
I look back at him. “Has everyone in this family lost their minds?”
Fucking hell.
I guess I might as well get this shit over with sooner rather than later and then get the fuck out of the Winslow Family Twilight Zone.
I push through the dining room doors and freeze.
Holy fuck does Howard look an awful lot like someone else.
Rachel
“Rachel?” Ty questions, his eyes both wide and confused. He looks like hell—rougher than I’ve ever seen him—and I immediately suck in my gut as it bloats with guilt. “Rachel?” He says my name again, as if I’m a mirage in the desert and he just can’t believe I exist.
“Hi, Ty.” It’s such a woefully pathetic greeting given the circumstances, but in my grand effort to be less critical of myself when I’m trying, I classify it amicably in the at least it’s a start column.
“So,” I continue, clearing my throat. “I know this is a surprise, seeing me here tonight, but what I have to say is too important for a phone call and would be outright criminal in a text.”
When he doesn’t say anything, I take a step toward him.
“I know things have been a mess—that I’ve been a mess—and I’m sorry,” I tell him and take three more steps toward him. “I…um… I had a conversation with my father today. It was a good conversation. A great one, actually.”
“Yeah?” It’s the first word to leave his lips, and even in its barren simplicity, it makes me want to burst into tears.
“Yeah.” I nod and take two more steps toward him. “I think our relationship will be much healthier moving forward.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Rachel,” he says, his voice soft but sad, like it’s causing him physical pain to be in my presence. It’s the worst scenario I can imagine—hurting Ty more than I already have—so I rush on to the good part and silently pray and wish and hope he’ll be in a place to receive it.
“I love you, Ty!” I shout so loud, I swear it could’ve shattered glass, the words are so eager to exit my body.
His chest heaves and his fists come to his hips, and I can’t help but say it over and over again.
“I love you,” I whisper this time, tears falling down my cheeks unchecked. “I do, Ty. I love you. I’m in love with you.”
“Thank fuck. It’s about time,” he mutters, and then he’s on the move, his legs closing the distance between us in three long strides.
Within seconds, I’m in his arms and he’s kissing me and I’m kissing him and his fingers are in my hair and my hands are gripping the material of his shirt.
Which only makes me cry harder.
“I love you,” I whisper against his mouth, and I can taste my own tears on his lips.
“I love you too, Rachel,” he says against my lips. “I didn’t have a childhood fantasy of making the perfect family of my own…but these last twenty-four hours have been fucking misery without you. I want it all now. A life, a family, kids—the whole nine yards—and I want it with you.”
Sounds like a dream. And I want it too.
I kiss him harder. His hands are on my ass, forcing my body to get as close to his as physically possible without climbing inside each other.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, kissing and touching and just desperately holding each other, but at a certain point, the background noise gets so loud, it’s impossible to continue pretending we’re the only ones in the room.
Like, there are a lot of other people, and they’re cheering and clapping their hands and saying things like, “Hell yeah!” and “Get a room!”