Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
“You’d think so, right? But no. He got all mad and started yelling at me that I was immature and too much to handle. What does that even mean?” Her eyes—a shade darker than Row’s—sparkled with unshed tears. “Shouldn’t the person you love be the perfect amount for you?”
Well, I’m no expert in love, but I think that if someone loves you the way you deserve to be loved, they could never get enough of you.
Rage scorched through my body. Dylan was clearly unhappy, and that made me want to use Tucker’s arteries as shoelaces. The jerk.
“Dylan…” I cleared my throat. “You should do what makes you happy.”
“I know.” She worried her lip, sitting upright. “But Chris Hemsworth is married. And lives in Australia. I’m not built for long distance, Dot.”
That made both of us laugh somberly.
“Hey! At least you got a baby out of it!” I reached to rub her belly with my free hand, which looked like a prosthetic glued onto a supermodel’s body. “You’ve always wanted a baby, and you gotta admit, this is so much better than stealing one.”
“Not if you have to push it out of your body. Plus, if I steal one, I can have my pick.” She pouted.
“Hmm.” I pinched at my puckered lips. “You have a point. If only kidnapping children wasn’t illegal and stuff.”
“Oh, Cal, what have I done?” Dylan moaned, throwing an arm over her eyes. “Tuck and I are the least compatible people on earth. We both come from families of giants. I’m only thirty-three weeks along and the baby is already, like, five pounds. It’s going to come out your size.”
“Hey, I’ve been told I’m pocket-sized.” I swatted her knee.
“For an adult.”
“That’s a very big word for what I am.” I was torn between being devastated for her and happy for myself that we seemed to be friends again. “So…why were you with him? Before the pregnancy, I mean.”
“Boredom? Loneliness? Temporary insanity?” She hitched one shoulder up, drawing circles over her nightgown with her fingernail. “Everyone left for college. You all lived your cosmopolitan lives. I stayed behind to take care of Mom. My universe was small and insignificant. I bussed tables every day, got back home, ate my frozen dinner in front of Netflix. Slept. Rinsed. Repeated. Tuck was there, making a good buck and easy to boss around. He took me to nice restaurants, weekend getaways, movies; he was a great distraction.” She paused. “Oh, and he really loves giving oral. Like, I’m talking thirty-minute sessions and multiple orgasms.”
“Wow. He really didn’t strike me as the giving type.”
“I know, right? I’ve met plastic utensils more charitable.” She popped her head up from her pillow, patting an empty space on her bed. “It’s probably an ego thing, but at the time I did not complain. But enough about my life. Let’s see what you brought over. It better be good.”
“Oh, it’s the best.” I inched toward her with my offerings. First, I put the foil-covered cupcake pan on her nightstand, unpeeling the edge for easy access. “Found our shoebox last night.”
“You mean the one that you stole from me?” She gave me the stink eye.
“I didn’t steal it; we had joint custody over it, remember? Giving it back was never an option because you were mad at me. Anyway, I started going through our notes. One of your birthday wishes was a dessert made out of M-lettered ingredients. I did my best.”
I had made her marshmallow cupcakes with milk, M&M’s, and Maltesers. Yeah, I’d had to cheat and use eggs, butter, and flour, but overall, I had brought my M game.
“Lookie here.” She removed the foil, bringing one of the cupcakes to her lips and taking a bite. It looked moist and soft on the inside; my heart swelled with pride. “Damnrm,” she murmured, mouth full. “I don’t know if it’s amazing or if I’m just not used to eating junk anymore.”
“It is amazing.” I flipped my hair—black-tipped, for obvious, morbid reasons. “And there’s more of them coming—including foot massages and doing your nails if you forgive me and take me back as your BFF.”
“A foot massage can get you into premature labor.” Dylan’s eyes widened in horror. “Hard no to that one.”
“Guess I’ll have to fan you with a palm leaf and tell you how pretty you are.” I stuck my finger into the frosting of one cupcake, popping it into my mouth.
“Well.” Dylan licked the frosting off her thumb sulkily. “I am very pretty.”
I perched my ass on the edge of her bed, careful not to wet it with my clothes. Dylan took another bite, craning her neck to peer at the plastic bag behind me. “What else did you bring me?”
“Siri, play ‘Material Girl.’” I slapped her hand away when she tried to snatch the bag from around my body, laughing.