Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Huh.
Wonder if it’s out there.
Helllooooooo post-game bedtime plans.
“What about this one?” Igor asks at the same time he holds up a tan colored suit jacket next to his torso.
“You look like you robbed the Gingerbread Man of his skin.”
He delivers a puzzled look to the piece of clothing.
“And I am so not going to help you find where you lost those gumdrop buttons.”
This time it’s me that receives a narrowed glare.
I playfully shrug prompting him to resume his wardrobe searching. “Tell me about your roots.” The jacket along with the pants are tossed into the now christened “going to charity” heap. “Where are you from originally?”
“No clue.”
Igor doesn’t hesitate to display to me his perturbation.
“The foster care system didn’t know, so they couldn’t tell me.” Becoming slightly uncomfortable with the subject has me lowering my frame to be beside Bella who immediately demands help with her clip-on earrings. “All my file said was that me and my female sibling were found by a Misfits MC member in a gas station bathroom off a major interstate near Camelottlin or Camelot as most people know it. We were completely abandoned. No identification or anything to mark where we had come from or where we were supposed to be.” His silence for some reason becomes so deafening that I force myself to continue to speak. “I, personally, have no memory of that incident whatsoever and the doctors believe this is because that was the first time I had ‘an episode’ as well as the cause for them continuing. I would ask my sister questions about it or where we came from or who our parents were, if I had any idea who she is…or where she is…” Bella lovingly takes my wrist to put a bracelet on it. “We got split in the system, which they try not to do, yet did because…well…it’s an effed-up program and ish happens, I guess.”
“Have you…” Igor’s strained voice weighs heavier on my heart than it has any right to, “ever tried to hire someone to find her?”
“Once.” Meeting his gaze in the mirror can’t be helped. “But I can’t even remember her name, which you sort of need for a good investigator to at least begin. And while they could’ve used what was in the files, the files were destroyed in a fire before they had the chance to be digitalized.”
“Holy F-” the harsh throat clearly out of me leads to him awkwardly fumbling, “-udge. Fudge.”
I shoot him a wink of a job well done.
“Nanny Joey,” Bella politely begins, “can I please share your space?” My nod of acknowledgement has her crawling into my lap, grabbing an old makeup brush from her Golden Girls cosmetic bag, and dusting my face with imaginary powder. “You need mateup. You so shiny.”
Her father struggles not to laugh prompting me to point out, “At least I’m not holding the suit I clearly wore to prom.”
“I didn’t go to prom.”
“Why didn’t you go to prom?” Bella’s dusting gets too close to my mouth yet rather than allow me to pull away she clamps down on my cheeks to hold me still, skewing my speech. “Nonable duvind a dayyye?”
“It’s like being interrogated by a ball-gagged Elmo.”
The glare he’s shot ignites laughter that I hate myself for enjoying so much.
I really shouldn’t be enjoying anything about him personally.
And we really shouldn’t be spending this much time getting to know one another.
Yes, we should have a relationship, but it should be strictly professional.
Being in the closest with him half naked…telling him about my history most people know nothing about…all feels very personal.
Too personal.
And it dredges up two awful questions I can’t seem to find answers to.
Why can’t I stop breaking all my rules for Igor “Eeyore” Alexeyev and what did he say to me at my interview that got me to take this job to begin with?
I wonder if he remembers.
“Prom was the same weekend as the championship game of the season, so the choice was be some random broadskie’s date or go be a champ with the boys.” His stare immediately falls to the white coat with the thick black lapel. “Not that it was really a choice. Hockey before everything. That’s the Alexeyev Family Law.” Rather than allow any time to comment on it, he banishes the moment away with an annoyed grunt. “Why is this ish harder than shoppin’ for Bella’s Halloween costume was?”
Tiny hands free my face allowing me to coherently answer, “Because she knew exactly who she wanted to be.”
“Belle!”
“And who she wanted us to be.”
“Blue Belle!” My mouth is grabbed a second time for the plastic toy lipstick to attack it. “And Daddy is The Beast!”
Irony that my first couple’s costume is with a man I will never actually date isn’t lost upon me.
Nor is it appreciated.
“About that, Princess…” Her eyes as well as mine soar up to him. “Daddy won’t be able to take you trick-or-treating because he has to be on the airplane that day, but I’mma try to be there for the parade at school, okay?” Watching her bottom lip quiver damn buckles his knees. “I promise I’ll wear my costume for that.”