Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Are you guys that hungry?” He puts his hands on his hips. “That you are waiting in front of the oven.”
I laugh at him, and Dylan drops his hand from me and shakes his head. I grab the oven mitt and take the pizza out of the oven, putting it on the square so I don’t burn the counter. “Dig in, boys,” I tell them and turn around to go slip two slices of bread in the toaster.
“What are you doing?” Justin asks me.
“I’m making myself dinner.” I look over at him and open the pantry door and find my favorite, taking it out.
“You’re eating toast for dinner?” He throws down his pizza and glares at me.
“No, I’m not eating toast for dinner,” I say. “I’m eating peanut butter toast for dinner.”
“That’s not dinner.” He glares at me, and I just shrug, turning around when my toast pops up and smearing peanut butter on it. “You can’t just eat toast.”
“Why not?” I ask, getting on the stool I always sit at, and it dawns on me that we have assigned seats.
“There is no meat,” he says, chewing another bite. “It’s toast.”
“And it’s my favorite,” I say, taking a bite of the toast.
“It’s gross,” Dylan says while he chews. “I never want to eat it again.”
I roll my eyes at him. There may have been a time or two that peanut butter and bread were the only things I could afford, and there may have been a time or two he hated it but ate it because there was nothing else to eat. “It’s not gross.”
“We ate it once for a whole month,” he says, and I laugh.
“It was a week, and it was just for lunch,” I say, and he shakes his head.
“You still need to eat something,” Justin says, and I laugh.
“I’m still full from lunch,” I say. “And this is what I want to eat.” I point at the plate. “Now leave me alone or I’ll eat your pizza,” I say to Dylan who looks away.
For the rest of the meal, Dylan and Justin talk hockey, and when I’m done, I get up and start cleaning the kitchen. “Where is your vacuum?” I ask Justin, and he looks at me. “What?”
“You’re not cleaning the house,” he says almost as if I kicked him.
“I’m just going to pass the vacuum and maybe do the mopping,” I say, and he shakes his head.
“The woman comes Monday and Friday,” he says, and I look at him.
“What woman?” I ask him
“Cristine,” he says. “Nice lady. She also does the laundry, and she buys the food.”
“You have someone who does your laundry?” I ask him, although I don’t know why I’m surprised.
“No,” he says. “We have someone who does our laundry.”
“Oh, no, buster,” I say. “We do not. I do my own laundry, and I’ll do yours, too.”
“Sweetheart,” he says, and whereas before, it made my stomach flutter, now I put my hands on my hips.
“Oh, no, don’t you sweetheart me. If you want me to stay here, I will do the cleaning and the laundry.” He glares at me. “And the cooking.”
“Dylan, are you done?” Justin turns to him, and Dylan brushes his hands together. “Wash your hands.”
“Okay, Justin,” he says, getting off the stool and bringing his plate to the sink. “Can we watch a short movie?”
“Sure,” I answer him, and he looks at Justin.
“You can choose.” He smiles at him, and Justin smirks at first and then totally smiles. Dylan walks away, and Justin watches him, then turns to me.
“You are not cleaning my house nor are you doing my laundry,” he says, and I cross my arms over my chest.
“Fine. I won’t clean your house or do your laundry. But I will clean up after myself and my son in your house.” I point at him. “And I’ll do my laundry.” I smirk now. “And if yours happen to fall in at the same time”—I raise my hands—“oh well.” He glares at me. “I can’t give you anything for having me and Dylan stay here. I can’t even pay for the clothes you bought.”
“I don’t want you to give me anything,” he says softly. “Just being here is all you need to give me.”
“Can you just let me give you the only thing I can?” I ask. “You don’t have to cancel your cleaning lady but let me just tidy things up if I can.”
He put his hands on his hips and huffs out. “Fine, but no vacuuming or mopping.”
I throw my hands up. “There is nothing left.”
He just shrugs. “Well, then you can just relax and come and watch a show with us.” He walks around the counter and kisses me. “Now let’s go.” He grabs my hand, and our fingers link together, and he kisses the tips of my fingers.